


Darling, Hold My Hand

by Hllangel



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: (Mosty. A few liberties have been taken to make the plot work.), Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Curtain Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:24:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3554234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Hypothetically," Harry says. "If I wanted to come out, how would you handle it? What would we do?"</i>
</p>
<p> <i>She gives him a sharp look. "How hypothetically are we talking?" </i></p>
<p>  <i>"Not very," he admits.</i></p>
<p>Or, Harry and Nick buy a house. And go public.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darling, Hold My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This all started when **Stupidgorgeousbritishboys** came into my inbox on tumblr in November rambling about a long and detailed coming out fic. I wrote 3.5K in one night. 3.5 months later, here we are. This is mostly canon compliant, though a few things have shifted/been ignored because they happened as I was writing the thing. 
> 
> So so many thanks to **Fiarra** , who is my constant cheerleader/alpha reader. Thanks to **Special_boots** for the brilliant editing and **Tilda** for a much-needed britpick. They made this fic a lot better. Any mistakes remaining are my own. 
> 
> Thank you to the 1D Big Bang mods for organizing this huge fest. It's been fun to be a part of it. 
> 
> Title from Jess Glynne's _Hold my hand_. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction based on the lives and likenesses of real people. If you are one of them and you are reading this: I'm so sorry, please turn around. 
> 
> Fantastic Soundtrack by **Bekkiho** can be [streamed](http://8tracks.com/franhoegtraed/open-happiness) or [downloaded](https://www.mediafire.com/?3sbbpnoaa4ia7bp).

**October, 2014**

It starts as a joke because it's enormously funny to the lot of them that no one ever quite catches on to how much Niall gets around. Especially given that the rest of them are pretty well settled these days.

When Dan throws out that maybe they should say Niall's been with a man, he's clearly expecting all of them to just laugh it off. But Harry's bone-tired from going out last night, and his jaw is still aching from the apology blowjob he'd given Nick for waking him up when he came in.

"Couldn't do a man," Niall says, laughing.

Something kicks off in Harry's head, and he can't quite shake it. Without thinking, he hits Niall's knee. "Don't knock it until you've tried it."

That line of questioning grinds to a halt, and they move on.

But Harry's still feeling petulant a few hours later when he's been split off for interviews with Liam. They're sat on the sofa and the woman interviewing them — he's forgotten her name and where she's from already; he usually tries to do better than that — is making a lot of weird gestures and trying very hard to make an interesting interview. He tries to play along, but her energy is weird and it doesn't work. Especially since she started out asking about his bum, which is quite good, if a bit sore from yesterday's round with Nick before they'd gone out.

"Name four traits you look for in a _lady_." She sort of sings the last word, and Harry can't help the huge breath he sucks in, because they've been asked this so many times. _So_ many times, he's sick of it. He's not looking, and he's especially not looking for a lady at the moment. It's only the years of media training that keep him from walking out on the spot.

"Female. That's a good trait," Liam says.

Before Harry can even think, he's speaking. "Not that important."

Behind the cameras, Tracey, who has been supervising this round of interviews, gets their attention and makes a gesture telling them to cut it off, and they end up answering the question with the usual bland answers. Harry only gets into a slight spat with Liam over his, but it'll be good viewing.

He's so incredibly tired when he gets home, but he's careful to hang his coat and put away his boots before collapsing onto the sofa and letting Pig climb up into his lap. Nick keeps telling him he's teaching her bad manners, but he can't help it, not when she lays her chin on his chest and looks at him with those eyes. He can't resist her dad when he does that, either. Must be a family thing.

Nick pokes his head out of the kitchen, and Harry smiles at him, the last bits of tension from the day flowing out as he does. His house is nice and all, but this, this is _home_. Nick smiles back, and Harry reaches out his arms. He's too tired to actually get up and get a hug from his boyfriend, and besides, he's pinned down by a very cute English bull terrier.

Nick comes over and sits down next to him, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulling him in.

"You alright?" Nick's voice is gentle and soft where he's usually loud.

Harry strains his neck up so he can kiss Nick, soft and slow. Nick leans into it, too, turning a bit so they're not about to break their necks and sweeping Harry's hair from his face. When they break apart, Harry keeps his eyes closed and reaches up to lace his fingers with Nick's, where they're still holding his head in place. He breathes out against Nick's mouth, and chuckles a bit at the face Nick must be making.

"Ugh," Nick says, "I hate people breathing on me." But he kisses Harry again before straightening up and pulling Harry down to rest his head on Nick's shoulder. Nick scratches his fingernails over Harry's scalp, and Harry melts into it.

These moments are Harry's favorite, sheltered from the chaos of screaming fans or bright lights and the same questions asked ten thousand times over. He can't believe he gets this now, gets Nick and the surety of keeping him this time.

In the kitchen, the kettle clicks off. That must have been what Nick was doing when Harry came in, but neither of them make a move to get up and make a brew. It's too comfortable where they are.

"You had your tea yet?" Nick asks.

Harry shakes his head. There'd been plenty of food set up at their studio, and he'd made sure to eat between interviews, but he's not had a real meal since last night, probably. And now he's hungry, but he doesn't want Nick to get up.

"We can order something. Don't want to move."

Nick chuckles and plants a kiss on Harry's head before he picks up the long, sweeping scritches through Harry's hair. "Tired then? Had a bit too much fun last night?"

"Shurrup," Harry mumbles, nosing at Nick's neck. He smells so good; always has. Harry's been getting bits of it all day if he turns right because he's been wearing Nick's shirt, but it's nothing compared to the man himself.

They sit in silence for a bit, but it really doesn't last that long. Nick gets bored too easily, so after a minute or two he's reaching for Pig with his spare hand and talking to her, Harry still tucked close into his side. If he wasn't starving, Harry would be content to stay here for days.

His stomach growls, and Nick starts laughing, the nice rumble of it coming at Harry through his skin where he's pressed into Nick's neck. He starts laughing too.

"What are we having then? What do you fancy."

Harry shrugs. "Something good."

"Something _good_." Harry can hear him rolling his eyes. "This like your 'someone nice'?"

"Found that, didn't I?"

Nick squeezes his shoulder, but doesn't respond. For all that they've been doing this for ages, it's different this time. For three years, the one constant in his life has been that he comes back to Nick. This time, he's not planning to leave.

"Could do that Greek place. Or sushi. There's a new one a few streets over you haven't tried yet."

"Sure," Harry says. He doesn't much care, really, so long as he gets something soon. "Could you do us some tea?"

It means Nick has to move away, but only for a few minutes. The kettle's still hot, anyway.

In the kitchen, Nick's talking on the phone and moving around, but Harry doesn't pay attention to the words, and he's nearly asleep by the time Nick hands him a warm cup of tea, exactly how he likes it. He cuddles into Nick's side again as soon as possible.

"Everything alright?" Nick asks. Harry should answer him this time, but he's got to find the right words for the endless frustration and petulance and sheer exhaustion he's been plagued by all day. And for how none of it has to do with how he stayed out all night.

"Said some things today," Harry mumbled into his mug.

"I should hope so. Weren't you doing promo all day?"

Harry knocks his knee into Nick's. That's not what he meant. Nick doesn't speak and Harry tries to put his words together.

"I don't get to talk about you," he starts. "The others, they all talk about their girlfriends. Get to talk about writing songs about them, all those things."

"You've never written a song about me," Nick says.

Harry has. Several. He's just never explicitly said anything. It didn't really matter before, when they'd never actually defined what they were other than _friends_ , which was a wholly inadequate word. Now's different, though.

"I have."

"Which one? Don't tell me."

"Girl Almighty," Harry says, smiling.

Nick waves his hand. "Album track. Who cares?"

"It's not even out yet," Harry laughs. "I'd get down on my knees for you, baby." He stretches out to kiss Nick again, because it's been far too long since the last time. Harry is more than usually aware of exactly how much time they have before he's got to leave for promo again. It's never been easy to leave, but it's so much worse now that he's sure about what he'll be coming back to, and there are so many reasons why he can't just bring Nick with him. Nick's got a job, for one. A job he can't do from the road. Also the whole thing where Harry's not out.

"I said things. Today."

"So you've said," Nick says, taking Harry's mug and setting it on the coffee table. Harry's palm is suddenly cold, so he digs his hand up under Nick's shirt to soak up the heat from his bare skin. Nick runs so hot, all the time, and Harry's hands get cold.

Harry shifts, and Pig scrambles to her feet and jumps down off his lap, which only means he can lay out lengthwise on the sofa and pull Nick over on top of him.

"Liam said being a girl is a very important thing he looks for in a girl."

"Sounds like Liam. What did you say?"

Nick's got his concerned face on, but he's so close to Harry that he's going a bit cross-eyed behind his glasses. Harry would just take them off for him, but he knows how bad Nick's eyes are.

"Said it wasn't that important," Harry says. "Said I was looking for someone nice."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Nice," he repeats, ducking down to capture Harry's lips. Harry lets his knees fall open so he can pull Nick in incrementally closer.

"Told Niall he should try sleeping with a man," Harry says. "Though that was mostly a joke."

"Was the other one?"

The thing is, Harry could spin it off as a joke. Liam's first reaction to the question was so stupid. He just doesn't want to. Not anymore. He's tired of it. And besides, he's happy right now. Happier than he's been for a while.

"No," Harry says. "Don't want to be joking. I want… I want to talk about you. Talk about us."

Nick pauses. "Are you — what are you saying, Haz?"

"I think I want to come out." He bites his lip. Now that it's out there, he can't take it back. Doesn't want to, really; something that's been sitting on his chest for ages feels a tiny bit lighter, even though he hasn't done anything but tell his boyfriend. "Is that alright?"

Nick kisses him, which is one of Nick's primary distraction techniques when there's something he doesn't want to talk about, but Harry lets him get away with it for a bit, mostly because he just likes kissing Nick. He toys with the waistband of Nick's jeans, a promise for later, if they're not too tired. Harry might be.

"It's not my decision," Nick says, eventually. "It's yours."

"It's ours," Harry protests. "You know as well as I do that if I say anything, they'll bring you into it, too. I won't do it if you're not okay."

"How long do we have?"

"Embargo's lifted on Monday, I think. Not sure when any of it's going out. We don't have to decide tonight. Just… I love you and want to show you off."

"I think I got the better end of the bargain," Nick says.

It's an old argument, one they've been having since they met, and one neither of them will ever win. Harry hates how much Nick undervalues himself, though. Tries to make up for it in every way he can.

The doorbell goes before they get too far into it and Nick climbs off Harry to go and bring in their dinner.

"Shhhhh," Nick says, "You're not here."

Harry flips him off, but Nick is smiling widely as he disappears into the entry corridor. Pig is stretched out on the floor, back pressed up against the sofa where they've been lying, so Harry reaches down to scratch her.

"What do you think, Pig? Think we should? We could take you to the park. Together."

Pig yawns and turns so that her belly is straight up. Harry takes it as a yes and keeps petting her.

"Should I be worried about this?" Nick says, leaning against the door frame. His legs are about ten miles long, and Harry doesn't bother to hide where he's looking. Maybe he's not quite so hungry after all.

"Might have a future," Harry says with a shrug. "She's very nice."

"She'll leave you for a mud puddle," Nick says. "Break your heart."

"What about you? Would you leave me for a mud puddle?" Harry stands and moves so that he can slide his arms around Nick's waist and press up against him.

"Wouldn't leave you for anything," Nick says, tone flippant. "Not even a jacket potato."

Harry can hear the deeper promise, and something squeezes his heart, makes him go fluttery and breathless. The only thing he can do is clutch at Nick's back and capture Nick's mouth, holding him close as the takeaway bag Nick's carrying hits the back of his legs. Dinner can definitely wait.

They detour to the kitchen just long enough to drop the bag on the counter, out of Pig's reach, and then stumble back down onto the sofa, Harry pushing Nick down first so he can wrap Nick's gorgeous legs around his hips.

"Pushy," Nick says, arching up his neck to give Harry better access. He's sneaking his hands down into Harry's jeans, and pulling him close. Harry's starting to feel a bit trapped by his jeans, so he reaches between them and unbuttons and unzips them, pushing them down his hips far enough to get his hardening cock out. He does Nick's as well, and strokes him a few times before taking his hand away and just grinding down on him.

Harry's not going to last long, with Nick's lips against his own and Nick's legs around him and Nick's words echoing around in his head. Nick's fingers go from clutching Harry to seeking out his hole, pressing down, and Harry twitches, moaning into Nick's mouth. He's really not going to last long if Nick keeps doing that. He's still a bit loose and sore from yesterday, but Nick's fingers are just causing him to spark.

Harry comes hard and fast, probably ruining both of their shirts, clutching at Nick and mouthing at his throat until he's through. Nick's still hard between them, so Harry slides to the side so he can reach between them and get his hand on Nick's cock. They must look a pretty picture, jeans and pants halfway off, flushed and sweaty. Nick's got his eyes closed and his head thrown back against the cushion, twisting a bit as Harry works on his cock using his own come as lube.

With one last twist of his hand, Nick comes too. Harry kisses him and swallows the loud moans he makes as Harry strokes him through until he's panting and going soft and batting Harry's hands away. Harry kisses him once more for good measure before sitting up so he can pull off his shirt and clean them up. He'll put a wash on after they eat.

Whilst Nick's recovering on the sofa Harry goes to set the food out on the table — now that they've got off, he's hungry again. There's about eight different rolls, plus a tray of sashimi, a mixed tempura appetizer that's gone a bit wilted and cold, and a carton of plain steamed rice. He gets plates and utensils and has everything set nicely by the time Nick comes over. He hasn't even snuck a quick bite, even though he can hear his own stomach.

Nick wraps his arms around Harry from behind and they lean against each other, Harry still holding two pairs of chopsticks in his hands.

"I love you," Nick says, holding tight to Harry.

Nick loves everything: records, pop stars, the other DJs at Radio 1, his friends, Pig. The way he says it to Harry is different to all the things he says he loves every day on the radio.

"Love you too," Harry says, soaking up Nick's warmth. It's a bit chilly in the flat, but his shirt's covered in jizz and he doesn't want to go dig out a new one. He'll steal warmth from Nick for now.

The tempura is stone-cold by the time they get around to eating it. It's a good thing it was the only hot thing they ordered, really. The rest of dinner hasn't been harmed by waiting a few extra minutes.

Harry waits until they're both picking at the last pieces of the rolls before bringing up the subject again.

"Would you be alright?" He takes the last Black Dragon roll and picks the eel off the top, chewing it slowly. "With me coming out, I mean."

"You're serious about this? It's not just being tired?"

It's not the first time the subject's come up, and every time before Harry's slept on it, and things hadn't been so bleak in the morning. He'd been fine letting things go on as they were; coming home to Nick before leaving him behind again. Never making things more than they were on the surface.

"It's different this time, innit?" he says. They both know it is. "I've got you for real. I don't want to hide that."

Nick snatches up the last of the salmon sashimi, and Harry pouts at him because he'd had plans for that. Next time.

"I'm ready for this, Nick. But I don't want to do it alone. I can't."

"Let me have a think about it," Nick says. Harry nods. They're going to have to make a decision soon, before all the press they did today starts coming out.

"I know it's going to be worse for you." It always has been, and Harry knows it. He hates it, but there's nothing he can ever do without making the situation worse. It's why he won't do anything unless they're together. "I want you to be alright. I want us to be alright."

Nick reaches out and takes Harry's hand in his own. "We're alright."

~*~

Harry approaches Laura once Lou's let him go. She looks extra hassled today, what with Zayn off sick, but she still smiles nicely when she sees him.

"Hypothetically," he says. "If I wanted to come out, how would you handle it? What would we do?"

She gives him a sharp look. "How hypothetically are we talking?"

"Not very," Harry admits. "We're talking about it."

"You and Grimmy?" She knows basically everything about their lives, and this is a big thing. She has to know the big things in order to do her job.

"Yeah." Harry kicks at a dark spot on the carpet. All he manages to do is scuff the toe of his new boots.

"Is this about yesterday?"

"No." Harry think for another second. "Yes?"

"Pick an option." Laura sounds sharp, impatient.

"Yesterday was a bit stupid." She nods, and Harry continues. "It's just — the others get to talk about their girlfriends. I want to talk about mine. My boyfriend. Why shouldn't I get to?"

"It's stupid," she says, like she's not part of the team that's been helping to contain the _damage_ his friendship with Nick causes. Harry frowns at her.

"Look, Harry, we've got a full day of interviews and we're a man down. Let me take it back to the office so we can lay out a strategy, if you really want to do this."

"Alright," Harry agrees. He goes to find Niall without another word.

~*~

They stagger the interviews all day, so that Harry and Niall will go for a few rounds and then Liam and Louis will go for a few rounds. They're well-practiced at navigating press days like this, but the result is that Harry only really gets to speak to Niall, when he needs to speak to everyone. Not that he could do it today anyway, with Zayn out sick.

Niall's a good test run, though.

It's a bit less intimidating than calling an official Band Meeting, even though the others are probably the least intimidating thing in his life. It's just that it's a big deal, and Harry really doesn't want to fuck it up. For any of them.

"I've been thinking," Harry says to Niall when they've got a bit of time to themselves whilst Liam and Louis are in the spotlight.

"Dangerous," Niall says, smiling.

Harry sits down on the sofa next to Niall and pokes him until he's laughing, which doesn't take much, really. Niall's always been an easy laugh. Sort of reminds him of Nick that way. Though as much as he might joke about it, he doesn't actually want to have sex with Niall.

"Shut up, you wanker," Harry says. He's smiling too, though. "I'm being serious."

"Really? You still look like Harry to me."

Harry groans. "That's terrible. Even for me."

"Go on, then."

Harry takes a breath before he starts. "You know me and Nick have been, sort of, well —"

"Fucking? That's not exactly news, Haz."

Harry hits Niall, but accidentally lands the hit on his knee, so he smooths it over gently, watching Niall carefully to see if he's actually in pain. Niall shakes his head, and Harry breathes again.

"No, I mean, we've been going out for ages. When I'm home. You know what it's like, trying to make things work. Now we're… official, I guess. Properly dating. As much as we can, anyway. Can't really go out on dates, but he hates that anyway. Says he doesn't know what to do on a date."

"You like all that, though."

Harry does. There's part of him that will never get over being a ridiculously romantic teenager, even when he feels so settled and sure of Nick these days.

"Yeah. I mean, that's sort of what I wanted to ask you about?" Harry clears his throat and waits for Niall to say something. When he doesn't he looks up to find Niall doing the same. "We've been talking. Me and Grim. And I asked Laura. About options."

Niall seems to get it without any more need for Harry to actually say the words.

"Since when?"

"Yesterday? Couldn't get it out of my head, what I said with Liam. Then I went home and it was just so nice to have him there. And they've been asking us about writing songs and I can't talk about him the way Zayn and Liam and Lou talk about their girlfriends."

"What's he saying?"

Harry shrugs. "Nothing yet. I won't do it without him. You know he'll be all over the headlines no matter what."

"Should talk to Lou, too," Niall says gently.

"Yeah," Harry agrees. Niall is probably the easiest conversation. Louis is going to be harder. "And Liam and Zayn. Band meeting, probably."

"You and Grimmy should make a decision before that, don't you think?"

Harry nods. He's feeling things out, sure. But he shouldn't actually do anything until he talks to Nick and they make the call. Harry thinks Nick will agree with him that it's time, but he's a bit afraid that he won't.

Lou comes in with her bag and brushes and starts attacking their faces, and the conversation is over for now. They've got work to do.

~*~

Harry takes a deep breath, meaning to start up the conversation again, now that Nick's finished telling Harry about Dave Grohl coming in next week, but he ends up just taking another bite instead, chewing slowly.

Nick gives him a strange look.

"You alright?"

Harry has to swallow before he can answer.

"Yeah. Sure." He is, really. It's just, well, this is a big conversation, and Nick doesn't like having big conversations. "It's just —"

Nick nudges Harry's foot with his, and when Harry looks back up at him, he's got a soft, warm smile on his face. The smile Harry loves best, that he wants to come home to every day. As much as he can, anyway.

"I spoke to Niall today," Harry says after the moment stretches out. It's not uncomfortable, it never is, but there's a current of anticipation in it. He's not sure if Nick's feeling the same thing. "About us. Laura, too."

"Who's Laura?"

Nick's met most of the management team at one point or another, though he doesn't spend all that much time with them. Harry's not sure if this is another stall or if he genuinely doesn't remember. He answers the question anyway.

"The one with the blond hair, always looks vaguely angry at something. A bit awful sometimes; I always feel like a schoolkid when she's the one watching us."

Nick moves his foot away, so Harry reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together on the table top.

"What did you talk about?"

Harry bites his lip. "I asked her. About us. How we'd do it." Nick's hand tightens in his, so Harry is quick to make sure Nick knows that he hasn't actually gone ahead with it. "Hypothetically, I mean. I told her we're thinking about it, but that's all. She's going to talk to the rest of the team and put something together. If we decide."

"You really want this, don't you?" Nick asks, voice quiet, tone even. Harry's not sure what to make of that, other than that Nick isn't fully opposed to it, maybe.

"Only if you do," Harry says. "I told you, I'm not making this decision without you."

"Just —" Nick lets go of Harry's hand and looks out the window to the back patio. "Just give me some time to think about it, yeah?"

They're done eating, it seems, so Harry stands to take their plates to the kitchen, stopping to squeeze Nick's shoulder and drop a kiss on his head. "As much as you need, love."

~*~

"Louis, can I talk to you a minute?" Harry asks, during a rehearsal break. There's a table set up with a kettle in the corner of the studio, and Harry's followed Louis over, even though he's not making any tea for himself.

Louis shrugs, and Harry waits until he's got a cup before pulling him into an unused room so they can have a bit of privacy. There's a squashy sofa in there, and Harry sits. Louis does as well, a foot or so of space between them, even though they're in private. It breaks Harry's heart if he thinks about it too much.

"So," Harry starts. Louis just looks at him, waiting for him to go on. Harry picks at the seam of his jeans, missing his old patched ones. It's such a volatile subject, and Harry hates fighting with anyone, the lads even more. "I — have you seen any of the video from the other day?"

"I stopped watching those ages ago. No point, really. It's all the same in the end."

"Well, not really? I said something when I was with Liam." Harry watches Louis’s face harden as he goes through the story, like he's preparing for battle. Which he probably is, given their history. "It's — It's not too late to stop it, if you want."

Louis relaxes a tiny bit, his knuckles turning back to normal color as his grip on his tea loosens. This is going to be the worst part. Harry's seen how much the mess they'd inadvertently created hurts him.

"Only —" Harry starts. He waits for Louis to meet his eyes. "Only I don't want to stop it this time. Me and Nick, we've been fooling around for ages but we're making a go of it now. For real."

"What are you asking me, Hazza?" Louis's voice is soft, but Harry can hear that he's nervous underneath, like he already knows the answer.

"I love him, Lou. He's my boyfriend, and I'm tired of pretending he's not. I want to tell everyone." Harry desperately wishes he'd made himself some tea, or at least brought a bottle of water with him, because his mouth feels like a desert, and there's something prickling at his eyes. He could use the tiny bit of distraction right now, and he knows better than to try to take a sip of Louis's tea. "I spoke with Laura the other day and she's putting some things together for us to look at."

"You've decided, then?"

"Of course not. Grim hasn't said yes yet, and I won't do it without him, because he'll be involved either way. So will you, really. And I haven't spoken to the others. Well, Liam and Zayn. I talked to Niall a bit. I just, I wanted to talk to you before asking everyone to vote."

"Why now?" Louis asks. "Why not wait until things are a bit more settled?" He sounds panicked, speaking fast.

"They are, Louis. It's been three years, more or less. I've known him as long as you've known El. And we've been —" Harry pauses. _Dating_ isn't quite the right word, but neither is _friends_. "—something for nearly as long. Just because we're saying the words now doesn't mean it was nothing before."

Harry knows he's getting a bit cross. This is going about as well as expected, but it's still frustrating. Louis is one of his best friends, his _family_ and Harry just wants to be happy. He doesn't want to spark a big fight and have everyone cross with him. "Look, nothing's been decided yet. I won't do it without everyone being alright with it. It's not just me and Nick. I know that. We both do."

He runs his hands through his hair, looking at the carpet and not at Louis. He's wearing a pair of Nick's boots today; he'd been running late, and they were the first ones he saw as he passed the bedroom on his way out. They're old and scuffed. Well-loved, he'd argue.

Louis's hand lands on his shoulder, startling Harry into looking at him again.

"I just need you to be sure, that's all." Louis says, rubbing Harry's back. Harry slumps towards him, leaning into the touch. "If this is really what you want then I'm happy for you. If it's just because of what you said the other day or something then you should think on it more."

"This isn't the first time I've wanted to," Harry says. "I've talked to him about it before. Thought about doing it on my own, but never brought it up with anyone else. It always went away in the end, and I moved on. It's different now. Really." Harry shifts to lean his head on Louis's shoulder, smiling when Louis doesn't move away.

"Alright," Louis says, after a long minute of silence.

"Thank you," Harry says. He doesn't move until there's a knock on the door calling them back to rehearsals.

~*~

Harry asks for a Band Meeting on Friday before they all go their separate ways for Halloween. He watches Liam and Zayn closely as he goes through what he wants, why he needs them to vote, why he needs them to be okay with all of this. Zayn's got a hand on Louis's back whilst Harry talks, and Liam keeps looking at him, waiting for a reaction.

When Harry asks for a vote, no one says anything at first.

"Louis, what do you think?" Niall asks, breaking the silence.

Louis meets Harry's eye when he speaks, though he's clutching Liam's hand and leaning into Zayn's side at the same time. "If you're sure, and if it will make you happy, then I vote yes."

"If you're sure," Liam repeats, nodding.

Zayn says yes as well.

"Stupid that we even have to vote," Niall says. "Of course I vote yes."

Everyone comes up to hug Harry when they break for the night, and Harry squeezes Louis a bit tighter in silent thanks.

~*~

**November, 2014**

Two days after Halloween, Nick refuses to get out of bed.

"Bit long to have a hangover," Harry says, kissing his forehead before going to make tea. "Halloween was two days ago."

"Didn't get to recover yesterday," Nick says. "Was working."

It's Sunday and Nick's off all day, but Harry's got to go record a bit this afternoon. He's got a few hours before he has to leave, though, so he brings his tea back to the bedroom and climbs back in, sitting against the headboard with his tablet on his lap whilst Nick curls up under the duvet next to him, Pig at their feet.

Laura's sent a video file to all of them, with the subject _Last chance to stop it_. Harry knows what it is, but clicks _play_ anyway. He usually doesn't watch his own interviews; he was there, he knows what he said. But this is a special case. Harry hasn't told her about their meeting yet, so he knows she's expecting one of them to stop this from going out. Probably wants them to, Harry thinks, not unkindly.

Nick stirs when the video starts, since Harry hadn't bothered with headphones. They're in the other room, and it's cosy where he is.

"Is that…?"

"The interview with Liam, yeah," Harry says. They've not had a chance to talk things through yet, both busy with work the last few days. "Laura says this is our last chance to stop this one going through, but I talked to the lads and they're okay with it. With everything."

"Oh." Nick is quiet. Nick is almost never quiet, but then, he is feeling poorly. Harry slouches down in bed, careful not to accidentally kick Pig as he does, so that Nick can see the screen as well.

They watch in silence, another sign Nick is feeling off — he can't watch anything without a running commentary. He doesn't say anything immediately when the video ends, either, so Harry pulls up the other email he got from Laura, the one she'd sent just him and passes it over.

"She wants us to come in for a meeting this week. She'll try to talk us out of it."

"We haven't decided yet," Nick says. He passes the tablet back to Harry, who turns it off and sets it aside so he can turn his full attention to Nick.

"No, we haven't," Harry says. He snuggles close, turning on his side and wrapping Nick around him. Nick's a bit warmer than usual, but Harry's comfortable all the same. "I'm just feeling things out a bit. Nothing will happen unless you want it to."

Nick kisses the back of his neck and doesn't respond. Harry knows he's fallen asleep again when his breathing evens out and his grip on Harry's chest loosens a bit. Harry rolls out of his arms to go make breakfast, but eats it sitting in bed, careful not to drop anything on the duvet. Pig noses at his plate, doing her best to get even a tiny morsel of human food.

Harry doesn't want to wake Nick, but also can't leave him to wake alone, so he brings his work back to bed, going through emails and reviewing schedules for the next few months whilst Nick sleeps next to him. He leaves the ensuite door open when he showers.

"I've got to go," Harry says. Nick's still mostly asleep, he thinks, but he's blinking at Harry and squinting his eyes, trying to focus without his glasses. "Got a recording to go to. I'll be back in a few hours though. I'll make you a cheese toastie for tea."

"Ugh," Nick says, making a face at the idea of food.

"Have some tea at least," Harry says. Nick hates tea, but he's feeling poorly so he needs it. "There's some paracetamol in the kitchen next to the kettle."

"Could you —?" Nick's voice is raspy and dry, and he cuts himself off coughing.

"Yeah. Hold on." Harry brings him the pills and a glass of water and watches to make sure he gets it down, smoothing Nick's sweaty hair back off his forehead. "I took Pig out, don't worry about her. I'll be back in a few hours."

Nick's eyes are drifting shut again before Harry is even out the door.

~*~

By the time Harry gets home, it's clear that Nick's actually sick and not just hungover from Halloween. He's moved from the bed to the floor of the bathroom, and he's dragged a pillow in with him.

Harry sinks down onto the floor next to him and digs his fingers into Nick's hair. "Oh, love. Want me to call Finchy for you?"

"Not yet," Nick says. His voice is worse than it was before, and Harry doubts he'll be better by morning, but he'll let Nick think he can go in for a bit longer. Nick really hates being off work.

They stay there for ages, Nick dozing on the cool tile floor and Harry on his phone, browsing Twitter and Instagram and answering messages he'd ignored earlier. Eventually he coaxes Nick back to bed and tucks him in, and then calls Matt so they're not scrambling for a replacement five minutes before Nick's supposed to be on air.

Right before going to sleep he tells Laura he'll be at the meeting on Tuesday. Hopefully he'll get a decision out of Nick by then.

~*~

Harry ends up rescheduling the meeting for Thursday. Nick's too sick to go in, and Harry's getting increasingly urgent emails from Laura with collections of headlines, asking him what he wants to do, telling him that he needs to make a decision, fast. On Wednesday morning, she attaches a sampling of the press queries they've received about it, along with a draft of a statement to send back.

_Stop stalling_ , she says, and ends the email without signing off.

He tells her not to say anything, and that stands no matter what he and Nick decide, but it's time to actually do it. And since he's heading to Paris for a few meetings, they've not got a lot of time to talk.

At least Nick is feeling well enough to sit on the sofa wrapped in blankets. Harry brings him a new cup of tea, and sits down next to Nick, laptop on his lap, still closed.

"We should talk," Harry says once he's settled. He opens up the latest email from Laura, and hands the computer over. "I'm heading to Paris tonight, but she wants a meeting tomorrow when I get back."

"I don't know," Nick says. He still sounds so tired, even though he's been sleeping most of the last few days. His eyes are red and bleary behind his glasses, but Harry leans in to kiss him anyway, slow and soft. Mostly just because he can.

"I know it's going to be rough, but we'll be doing it together," Harry says. Then amends, "even if I'll be away for a few months."

"No different from the way things usually are," Nick says. He laughs, but it's hollow. Harry presses closer to his side; he hates that part too.

"I just want to be able to brag about my hot boyfriend," Harry says.

Nick laces their fingers together and spends a moment too long studying Harry's face. "Okay," he says.

"Really?" Happiness is welling up in Harry's chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He clutches Nick's hand. "You really want to do this?"

"I want to. For you."

"For us," Harry says.

"For us," Nick agrees, leaning in to kiss Harry. He doesn't seem to be up for much, after the last few days, but a kiss and a cuddle are never really a problem. It takes a minute for them to get comfortable, laid out on the sofa together, both wrapped in Nick's blankets.

"I love you," Harry says, pressing his face to Nick's chest. "So fucking much."

"Me too, popstar."

~*~

Laura's office at Hackford Jones feels cramped. The walls are solid, unlike the glass of the larger conference rooms Harry is used to when he comes in for meetings with the band. Harry is sitting next to Nick, clutching his hand under the table — though it's not exactly hidden, as the desktop is glass. It doesn't really matter here, Harry thinks gleefully. Not in this office, not given why they're meeting in the first place.

Laura seems to have taken charge of the project herself, for all that she'd mentioned talking to other people on the team before. She's got a few different folders in her hands, but she sets them down before speaking.

"No matter what you choose to do, the one hard-and-fast rule we have to stick to is nothing concrete until after Dubai."

"When's that?" Nick asks.

"April. I'm flying out for Coachella from there," Harry says.

"That's ages away," Nick says.

"That's barely any time at all," Laura counters. "Especially since we need to focus on the album in the next few weeks."

"Bullshit," Harry says. "You don't care about the music." Harry knows, too, that the farther out the official start date of this is, the more pressure they'll be under to call it off. He doesn't want to do that.

"Of course we do," she counters. Harry's worked with Laura before, mostly when she's herding them around interviews and reminding them of what they can and can't say on camera. She's friendly, but right now she feels more like an enemy, backed up by the rest of the firm, with Nick the only one on his side.

It's a bit ridiculous, but so far things have been easy. Getting the lads to agree, getting Nick to agree, having Laura draw up options. The problem is actually getting everyone to agree to go ahead and _do_ something.

"No, you don't." Harry sits straight up in his chair, as much as he can manage, making himself a bit taller and a bit more sturdy. "Not the same way we do. We write about things that mean something to us, but your job is to sell it. You care if it's good because it will sell. There's a difference."

"You may be right, Harry, but it doesn't matter right now," Laura says.

"Yes, it does," Harry says. Nick lets go of Harry's hand and lays his on Harry's back, a silent show of support. "I've been in this long enough to know that we're the primary product you're selling, not the music. You make us marketable and anything you put our faces on sells too. Including the music. That's how it works."

She doesn't say anything, confirming what Harry's known for ages. He looks over at Nick, who smiles warmly back.

"I know you don't want me to do this, but I'm going to. The lads voted. So let's see the options," Harry says, pointing at the folders Laura's been hovering over since the beginning.

She looks disappointed, but then she did fail to talk them out of going forward, which was probably her primary goal for the meeting. Harry doesn't care and doesn't try to say he's sorry, because he's not.

"We think this is your best shot. Minimal fallout, fewest people involved."

Harry looks at the sheet in front of him. There's a calendar, a few sample press releases, and a list of publications and shows for an in-depth interview.

"We keep the momentum from last week," Laura says. "The one for _The Mirror_ hasn't come up yet, but we do the same when it does. You don't have to watch your words as carefully, and after Dubai there's a press release or a filmed interview or both, and you're done. The other lads will have their own press to do, saying how much they love and support you, the way they always have. We manage the fallout from there. You have two months off to let the press die down, and you get to go on with your life and your tour."

It sounds easy, and Harry flips through the pages. Lots of pictures of him, lots of sample headlines, but it's not right. She's not telling him everything.

"This isn't right," he says, getting to the back of the folder. "I've done my homework. The fallout's better if I'm in a committed relationship. Which I am — that's why we're doing this. Why is Nick missing from everything?"

Next to him, Nick sucks in a breath. Laura doesn't look at him, so Harry knows he's the only one who's noticed, and he thinks he knows what's coming.

"That _would_ be true," Laura says, voice deliberately calm. It's coming off as patronizing, though, which just makes Harry want to fight back. "Except —"

"Except that it's Nick," Harry says. He crosses his arms and leans back in the chair, trapping Nick's hand at his back. "You've never liked him."

Laura casts her eyes sharply at Nick, and starts over, still using that bloody patronizing tone. If Harry didn't want this so much he'd walk out right now. Take Nick with him and snog him on the bloody pavement in front of the building. It's a busy street; someone would take notice roughly three seconds in.

"We do like him," she says, looking back at Harry, but refusing to quite meet his eye. She's looking at something on his forehead. "He's a client of this firm as well, we're here to advocate for you both. It's just that the two of you together are harder to spin. We'd be more successful if you were on your own."

"So I'd get to be out, but I'd still be hiding my relationship. That misses the point entirely. It's not like I'm going to be dating anyone else." Harry uncrosses his arms so he can lay a hand on Nick's thigh. He's been almost unnaturally silent, and not playing with his phone either, the way he's prone to when meetings run long or get too boring to pay attention. He's tense under Harry's hands.

"There's loads of reasons for coming out. You've always been supportive of your gay fans. Do it for them."

"She's got a point," Nick says. His voice is quiet, but sharp. It cuts through and Harry turns to him.

"Nick —"

"It'd be a good thing, yeah? You being out. You could do so much for so many kids just by being yourself and turning up to your job."

Harry can tell Nick means every word he's saying. This is the part they've talked about before, the upside of going public, and Harry wants that too. But he wants Nick more, wants to be able to be out _with_ him, not to have to continue to sneak around and watch his every move.

"No." Harry crosses his arms again. "No, it's out of the question. I'm not coming halfway out." He knows he's crossing the line into petulant again, losing his edge, but he wants to scream and shout at everyone until they give in. What's the fucking point of being a popstar if he can't do whatever the fuck he wants?

"Harry," Nick tries again. Calm and soothing sounds a lot better on him than it does on Laura.

"I'm not doing it without you, Nick. I told you that. I don't want to hide you." He leans over and kisses Nick. It's weird, kissing him in the middle of a meeting, even if they're still not in a very public space. Soon, hopefully, Harry won't have to take any of that into consideration anyway. "I love you."

Nick swallows hard when Harry pulls away. "Me too."

Harry slides the folder back to Laura. "What's next?"

"Option 2 is a soft landing. You laid the groundwork last week, and we let it keep going on its own. Most of the headlines are saying that you're possibly bisexual, and we let them. We don't contest it at all."

Harry listens as she goes through it, flips through the packet she's prepared for that one, which isn't quite everything he's been doing the last few years, but close enough to make him uncomfortable.

"No," he says.

"Bisexuality is easier for people to accept if you're in a relationship with the opposite sex. Nonthreatening. People don't like to think about men having sex, so it's alright if it's just an implication here or there. You can talk about men you've been attracted to, but if you're seen most often with a woman, it's a soft landing."

"Because _our_ fans hate thinking about gay sex," Harry says. "I do go on Twitter, you know. Nick's on Tumblr too. They've asked us all about it before. The fanfictions and stuff."

"They're vocal, but they're not as many as they think they are. They're not a majority. You risk alienating more fans by coming out point-blank than you do being seen with a girl for a few more months."

"I'm not doing it." Harry very nearly throws the folder back at her. "Next."

" _Please_ think about it, Harry. These are the two best options, and you really should pick one."

"I'm not going to. Give me the last option."

Laura passes him the folder, and Harry breathes easier when the mock-ups start to include pictures of Nick, too.

"We're doing this," Harry says. Though it's not just him, so he turns to Nick. "Right?"

"If this is what you want, then we'll do it."

Harry squeezes Nick's hand. "This is it," he says to Laura. "Decision made."

"Will you just — think on it for one night, Harry? This is going to be extremely difficult."

"Stop trying to talk us out of this," Harry says. "It's going to be rough no matter what. What's your problem with Nick? With us?"

"Because he's ten years older than you and you met when you were seventeen, Harry. There's been headlines and gossip about the two of you just as long," Laura says, her calm tone breaking at last. She's not exactly yelling, but she’s close, and Harry leans against Nick. "Because he had a reputation for partying and sleeping around before you came along. It doesn't look like a balanced and healthy relationship, and it's going to be a bitch to get good press."

"Excuse me," Nick says. He stands up and leaves the room before Harry can say anything to stop him. His face is hot, flushed with anger or embarrassment, or some combination of the two. He _knows_ what people say about Nick already, but to hear it directly, from someone who is supposed to be helping them, cuts deep.

"Me too," he says, and gets up. "I've got to go talk to him."

"If he's outside—"

Harry lets the door shut behind him, cutting off the rest of her sentence. Nick won't be outside, not when Harry could have been seen on his way in. He'll be inside somewhere; Harry just has to find him.

He pushes the door to the nearest toilets open, and it looks empty enough, but one of the cubicle doors is closed.

"Nick? You in there?"

There's a shuffling sound, and then the lock scrapes open and Nick steps out, looking ten times more tired than he had at the start of the meeting. Harry doesn't hesitate; he walks forward until he bumps into Nick's chest, their arms automatically folding around each other.

"I'm sorry," Harry says. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. I knew we'd have to fight but I didn't think she'd say _that_."

"She'd have been thinking it," Nick says. "She was anyway. And she's not wrong, either. It'll be easier on you if you're not attached to me."

"That's the point, though. _You're_ the point. I told you I want to talk about writing songs for you. I want to tell people I'm going home to my boyfriend during breaks. Fuck, I want you to come on tour with us when you have holidays." Harry noses into Nick's neck, holding him tight and breathing him in. "The rest matters more to everyone else. You're what matters to me."

They stay like that for a few minutes, the moment stretching out until the edges are wearing thin, but Nick still doesn't say anything.

"We can call it off," Harry says, eyes hot. He doesn't want to, but they've not actually done anything yet and it's already hurting. "Things are good now, yeah? We don't have to do anything."

Nick pulls back a few inches and cradles Harry's head in his hand, smoothing his thumb over Harry's cheek. He leans forward and kisses Harry, easy and soft. Offering comfort when he'd been the one hurt.

"Yes, we do," Nick says. He kisses Harry one more time, slow and lingering. "Let's go take the world by storm."

~*~

**December, 2014**

Harry pulls Nick's arm tighter around him, clutching at his fingers like he never has to let go, like he's not leaving tomorrow before Nick's finished with the show. Like he won't be back in a week anyway.

"You could still come with me, you know. Get on a flight Friday when the show's over. Spend a few days in New York with me."

Nick holds him close, and Harry relishes the tight squeeze. Nick will overheat and roll away soon enough, but for now this is good; Nick is spooned up against his back, the duvet tucked under their chins so as not to let any bit of cold air seep in around the edges.

"I'm busy this weekend," Nick says. Collette is hosting a party on Saturday.

Harry knows, he's been invited as well, but he'll be working. He wishes he could be there. A party made up entirely of their friends, where they wouldn't have to be careful around people who didn't know, or people who couldn't know. He's really tired of being careful, especially now that there's a set schedule for everything.

"Life of the party, me," Nick says, tucking his nose into Harry's neck.

"No one will mind." Harry knows Nick might get a lot of shit about ditching the party, but no one would actually be angry.

"Not exactly an ideal holiday for me, though. Sat in a hotel room waiting for my popstar boyfriend to come back. You know I wouldn't be allowed out."

"Sure you would. You're no one in New York."

"Nice, Styles. Way to inflate my ego there." He tries to roll away, but Harry's not done cuddling yet. He's never done, if he's honest. He just lets them pause for a bit sometimes, because Harry knows that good relationships require compromise.

Harry squeezes Nick's hand. "You know that's not what I mean. Just, no one would recognize you there. You could blend in, travel with us for a bit. Sophia and El are coming. Besides, Drew and Waseem are there. Aimee and Ian will be there for about a day. I could get you a seat on their flight."

It's too soon to be seen together anywhere but in London or up north, according to the official schedule they'd worked out over the last few weeks. And even then, Harry had got an irate email from Laura the morning after the BFAs. It's just that with Harry working up until Christmas and Nick working in the Maldives for New Years, they'll hardly be able to spend any time together before tour starts again.

Harry just wants a proper holiday with his boyfriend.

"Your fans know me, Haz. They'll know I'm there with you even if we're never seen together."

"Speculation. They already do plenty of that. I don't care." Harry sticks out his bottom lip even though Nick can't see him. It's the principle of the thing. "I'll pay for all of it myself. Put you in a different hotel. Or you can stay at Soho House or with Drew or someone."

Nick kisses the back of Harry's neck and just breathes against him for a minute.

"That's not the problem, love."

Harry deflates a bit. He knows that. He just wishes it were easier, sometimes. It will be, in a few months. He lets go of Nick's hand and turns in his arms, careful to stay close, to not let Nick roll away yet.

"I know," Harry whispers against Nick's lips. It's so easy to close that last gap between them and kiss him, slow and languid. Unhurried like it's not past Nick's bedtime already. "I know."

"Soon," Nick says, and holds Harry tighter.

~*~

Nick barely kisses Harry before taking the box Harry's carrying out of his hand and turning to go into the living room where the rest of the family is gathered with drinks before dinner.

Harry probably should have waited a bit to give Nick his new phone, because as it stands he's yet to get a proper hello, when they haven't seen each other in over a week, and it's Christmas Eve. They've been apart for much longer, but given the announcement they're about to make, it'd be nice to get a bit more than a chaste kiss at the door. Though it's not like they can do much more than that in Nick's family's living room.

Eileen rolls her eyes at her son and gets Harry a drink before he goes to sit next to Nick on the sofa, where he's playing with his phone.

"Nick," Harry says, getting as close as he can, lips brushing Nick's ear as he speaks. "You haven't said hello to me."

That gets Nick's attention at least, and he turns so that their faces are inches apart. "My dad's right there," Nick says. "And I haven't been able to get on Instagram in ages."

"It's been five days," Harry says. He takes the phone from Nick's hand and tucks it under his leg. "At least give me a kiss."

So Nick does, twisting around and fitting their mouths together. Harry wants to press closer, to sneak a hand up under Nick's shirt and feel his skin, but he's very aware of where they are, especially when someone whistles from the direction of the kitchen. Harry flushes when they break apart, and turns to find Jane watching them.

"Save it, you lot. Tea's up," she says, smiling.

"I'm not hungry," Harry says. "Think I'll go straight to bed." He leans in and kisses Nick again, mostly as a punchline, but also because he can. Nick's family are warm and loud and noisy, and have welcomed him with open arms since the first time Nick brought him home.

Harry's stomach grumbles, contradicting him, but he can only pretend to pout for a few seconds because Nick is getting to his feet and pulling Harry up with him. Harry presses up against him and kisses him again for a minute before they head into the dining room, walking side by side.

They don't exactly have a plan for how they're going to tell either of their families that they're about to go public, but it comes up naturally when Pete asks Nick if he's found a new house yet.

"Not yet," Nick says, once he's finished his mouthful of Yorkshire pudding. "It's turning out to be a bit more difficult than we thought."

"Bloody London," Pete says, "It's all overpriced broom cupboards. A million pounds for one bedroom. It's robbery. Find a nice house outside the centre, I say. More space for less money. You're not made of it, Nicholas."

Nick looks at Harry, and Harry smiles, wrapping an arm around Nick's shoulders and leaning close, even though they're all crowded around the table already.

"It's not really about the price," Nick says. "It's more about location and privacy. It's not just me that's moving."

Eileen catches on first, Harry thinks, from the way her eyes widen when she looks at him. Harry smiles back at her, and she does the same.

"It will be our house," Nick says. "We're buying it together."

"Isn't that a bit risky?" Andrew asks. "I mean, I know Harry basically lives at yours already, but half your friends do, too."

"That's the other thing," Harry says. He squeezes Nick's shoulder, and they press a tiny bit closer together. Harry's not expecting Nick's family to react badly, exactly, but he always feels better when he's touching Nick somehow. He's magic. "We're going public."

The entire table goes still, which is something Harry's never seen happen. Usually, everyone is talking over each other, having three conversations at once across people and across the table. Now, though, everyone is sitting up and paying attention, watching them carefully. Watching _Nick_.

"When?" Jane asks.

"May, probably," Nick says. "We've not got a specific date, but somewhere around there, when Harry's off from touring for a few months."

"Hopefully we'll have a house by then," Harry says. "And have it properly secured."

"That's a big step," Eileen says, eyes soft but focused on Nick. "Are you sure, love?"

Harry's nearly certain she's not asking about _him_ , just about what they're doing, but it's reassuring all the same that Nick glances at him and gives him a soft smile before answering her. "Yeah, I am."

"There's a stack of folders in my publicist's office already, with all the details. She's got it planned to make it as easy as possible on us both." Harry had tried to read over some of the contingencies last time they'd been in for a meeting, but the details had made his head spin. He just wants to hold his boyfriend's hand in public.

"It's more complicated than we thought," Nick says. "But there's a plan. We'll be alright."

Jane and Eileen both get up to come hug them both, and Nick leans over to give Harry a quick kiss, and just like that, conversation moves on to other things. The mood in the house swings back up, especially once everyone's had at least one more glass of champagne, on top of the cocktails before dinner.

It's near to one in the morning by the time they go upstairs, Harry giggling and holding onto Nick's belt loops as they walk. Mostly it leads to a lot of stumbling around, and Harry is very glad that there aren't any small children around. They'd be woken up for sure. He rather likes small children, though. They like his jokes more than anyone else.

Nick stops walking very suddenly and Harry runs into his back and has to hold on tightly to steady himself before he looks up and realizes that they've made it to Nick's room, and the door is closed behind them. He's not really drunk, but the world has developed a bit of fuzz around the edges; all it does is bring Nick's face into sharp focus.

"Going to say hello properly now?" Harry asks, pulling Nick closer, lining up their hips. Nick's got a single bed here, but Harry's shared it with him before. Not enough room to do much, not that they would, given how thin the walls are, but mostly Harry just wants to feel Nick against him.

"Hello," Nick says, and then they're kissing, the kiss that Harry has been wanting all night. All week, really, ever since he left for New York. Sometimes, in the darkest corners of his mind, Harry wishes that things had not gone quite so insane. He'd be at home more, able to spend more time with Nick, with his family. Coming out wouldn't quite be such a big process; maybe he'd have done it by now. "Missed you."

"Missed you more," Harry whispers.

They break apart to clean their teeth and undress, and then _finally_ , Harry can slide into Nick's bed under the thick blankets and pull Nick close, tangling their legs together.

~*~

Christmas dinner in Holmes Chapel is less crowded than it was at the Grimshaws’ house, but no less quiet for it. Gemma is talking to Nick about something at work, waving her arm with her new bracelet excitedly as she does. Archie is busy recounting every single gift he got this year, including everything in the stocking he was allowed to open before they got there, right down to the clementine in the toe.

His mum keeps moving in and out of the kitchen, even after Robin's told her to _sit down and enjoy the meal_ about twenty times.

The announcement they need to make doesn't come as naturally, with no one asking about Nick's house-hunting. Harry is getting fidgety with nerves by the time he and Gemma are clearing away the plates and serving dishes from the table.

She corners him before they go back out after the last dishes are cleared.

"Are you alright? You're acting weird." She's always been able to read him, always knows when something's bothering him. She'd been the first one to tell him that he should go for it with Nick, since his feelings were written all over his face.

"Yeah," he says. He's twisting his ring around, and he knows she sees it.

"You're lying."

Harry takes a deep breath, all the way in like he's about to sing, even though he's just talking to his sister. "It's just … this was easier with Nick's family. It just sort of came up?"

"What is it, Harry?" She asks, grabbing his hand to keep him from twisting his ring more. "Is everything alright? Is he — there's nothing wrong, is there?"

Harry gives her a half-smile and pulls her in for a hug. "We're fine. We're both fine, promise. We just have something to tell you, that's all. We'll do it after a round of crackers, probably."

"Whatever it is, it'll be okay, yeah? We'll make it alright."

He really loves his sister. "It's a good thing, I promise."

When they go back out, Nick's talking to his mum across the table, and there's a cracker sitting in front of each of the chairs. Harry reclaims his seat and pulls Nick in for a kiss, before leaning close to whisper to him. "After the crackers, yeah?" Nick has to know what he's talking about.

Nick nods, and then Harry nods at Gemma, since she's looking at them with the question in her eyes.

Nick's hat breaks when he tries to put it on, so they have to mend it with sellotape. Harry doesn't even attempt to pull his all the way on his head, just gathers his hair up into a high ponytail so that it spills out around the paper crown. It's probably being crushed, but they're not meant to be permanent anyway. Despite the ban on phones at the table, no one says anything to Nick when he pulls his out of his pocket to take a picture. Both his mum and Gemma ask him to send them a copy.

Harry takes Nick's hand on top of the table, needing to tie them together as they do this. It's harder to do this with his family than with Nick's somehow. Maybe because it's his mum and his sister, and they're the most important people in his life. He glances sideways at Nick, who is fiddling with his hair around the mended paper crown, and thinks maybe he needs to re-evaluate that list at least a little bit.

"So," he says, when the table gets a bit quiet. "We’ve sort of got some news." Their chairs are farther apart here, so he can't lean against Nick as easily as they'd done last night, but at least he's got Nick's hand in his.

Everyone is looking at them now — except for Archie who is busy playing with a new Lego set. It was the one toy he'd been allowed to bring to the table, so that he'd have something to do when the adults were all talking. Seems to be working.

Harry takes one more breath, and says it. "We're going public. I'm coming out and we're telling everyone about us."

"Oh, but that's wonderful!" Gemma says, getting out of her seat to come and hug them. In her enthusiasm she nearly crushes their heads together, but Nick is smiling so Harry leans over to kiss him again.

"I'm happy for you both. But why are you doing this now? You're about to leave for the year, love," his mum reminds him. Harry looks at her, and he can see that she's smiling.

"It's just time," Harry says. "It hit me when we were doing the album promo that I never get to talk about Nick, when the others talk about their girlfriends. And because we're looking for a house. Together."

"When is it going to happen?" Gemma asks.

They go through the whole plan in broad strokes, and Harry watches his mum's face as they go through it. She's smiling, but there's something off about it, and she's watching Nick a lot as they go through what's about to happen over sherry and pudding.

"What do you think, mum?" Harry asks once they've gone over the whole thing.

"As long as you're happy," she says. "That's all any mum wants."

Once they're done eating, Anne recruits Harry to help with the washing up, and he knows the other shoe is about to drop.

They put the leftovers away, load the dishwasher and, and start in on the pans in silence for a while, listening to the low hum of chatter from the living room. It's only when they're halfway through the big serving trays that she speaks.

"Are you sure about this? Have you thought everything through?"

"We have, I promise," Harry says. They'd spent a few hours in Laura's office the other week, working through details and contingencies and making sure everything would be as smooth as possible.

"And everyone is alright with this?"

" _Yes_ ," Harry is sure she's asking around something but he's not quite put his finger on it. "I talked to everyone before we decided to go ahead. The lads said yes before Nick did."

Anne abruptly stops scrubbing, and the tray falls back into the soapy water whilst she looks at him sharply.

"You asked them about it before you talked to Nick?" Her voice is bordering on angry, but she's got it all wrong.

" _Mum_. Of course not. We were already talking about it before I called a band meeting. I just wanted to feel things out first. See if it was even possible, with where we are now. And everything's set up so that we can stop at any time if things get bad. It hasn't been, so far. Since I said that thing."

"I know," she sighs and reaches back into the warm water for the pan she'd been scrubbing. "I want this for you, I really do. Just —"

She drops the pan back into the water and reaches for him, soapy water dripping off her gloves and onto the floor. It gets all over his shirt when she pulls him in for a hug. It's been years, but he's still not quite used to how much taller he is.

"He loves you so much. He'd do anything for you, you know."

"I know," Harry says. "But this is for both of us."

She squeezes him tightly before letting go. "Go on," she says, shooing him out of the kitchen. "go give him a kiss for me."

Harry kisses her cheek before doing as she says.

~*~

At least Laura has the decency to wait until halftime to call, since she's insisting on calling him on Boxing Day. It's almost at the end of the fifteen minutes before he notices, though. She's called him four times already, but his phone had been in his coat pocket whilst he'd talked to Pete and Dave about the first half of the match.

He's about to call back when his phone rings again. He sighs, tells them he'll be right back, and takes the call out to the hallway, hoping that whatever she has to say isn't going to take more than a few minutes.

"Please tell me you're anywhere but Old Trafford right now," Laura says instead of a simple _hello_.

It's not that Harry was expecting the call to be good — it never is when people call that frequently — but a bit of politeness would have been appreciated before she launched into whatever she has to say.

"I can't do that," Harry says. "Dave offered us tickets so we came. Gardner," he tacks on at the end, in case she doesn't know who he's talking about.

"You and Nick?"

"And Pete. Grimshaw. Nick's dad. He's a proper fan. Thought it might be nice to bring him along."

Nick rounds the corner from wherever he'd wandered off to when the match was still on, soft smile on his face and his new, shorter hair sticking up where he's run his hands through it. He smiles at Harry, and Harry tries to return it, but it must not work, because Nick's features shift into something unhappy and he's at Harry's side two steps later, wrapping an arm around his back and pulling him close. Harry leans against him and loses track of what Laura's saying.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?" Harry asks.

"Nick posted about being there, and you've been spotted, and it's starting to spread that you're there together."

"That's not a problem," Harry says. He can tell that Nick's heard, his hands have tightened on Harry's back. He should probably be worried about this, since they are in public, and a football match is very different to backstage at the Brits, but they're on the Club Level, and with the match starting up again, it's unlikely that anyone's going to be in the corridor at the moment. "We do go out, you know."

"Yes, but it's Christmas," she says. She sounds like she's trying to get a completely obvious point through his skull, and it's not working. It actually isn't because Harry has no idea what the problem is. "You spend Christmas with family."

Nick's fingers dig into Harry's back, and he knows Nick's heard. "He is family," Harry says.

"But the world isn't supposed to know that yet," Laura corrects him. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Dunno. Dave invited us to dinner later."

"Just the three of you?"

"Probably? His girlfriend will be there too. She's here. So four, maybe."

"You need more people," Laura says. "Make it a group."

"Fine," Harry says, and hangs up. He can probably get Gemma to come, at least.

He leans into Nick some more, shifting so he can kiss him, letting himself forget, for the moment, where they are. It's stupid, but then they've done far worse in similar spaces before now. It's usually fun, though, where this is just desperate and sad. Harry hates that it's this complicated.

"Know anyone in Manchester who wants to come to dinner with us tonight?" Harry asks when he pulls away.

Nick smoothes a thumb over Harry's cheekbones and gives him one last kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Go watch your football," he says, eyes sad but voice fond. "I'll call around and see who's free."

They're ten minutes into the second half by the time Harry gets back to his seat, but he's not missed any goals. Small favors, at least.

~*~

Dinner itself is wonderful, despite the stewing shit mood that Harry has been trying to push back all day. They end up picking up Liv when they take Pete home, and Michael meets them at the restaurant. It's a small party, but a lively one. Harry adores Liv and has got on well with Michael the few times they've met, but it's not the exactly the evening they'd thought they'd get. Harry sticks as close as he can to Nick's side, keeping in mind where they are and the fact that he's already been reprimanded once today.

They take a few pictures with fans and staff at the restaurant, but it's not until they're in the car on the road back to Oldham, a bit tipsy on wine, that Harry can give in and curl into Nick's side. Nick slides his fingers into Harry's hair, and Harry listens to the rumble of Nick's voice as the talks over Harry's head to Liv.

He's half asleep by the time they arrive, back starting to ache from the position he's been in, but as he comes awake he realizes that they're alone in the car, for now.

"How was today, was it good?" Harry asks, speaking into Nick's neck. His lips are catching skin, and he can feel Nick shiver slightly.

"Yeah. I'll see you soon?"

Harry's headed out to LA after the New Year, since he can't go on holiday with Nick, and the plan is to come back for a week or so in late January before tour starts. It's only a few weeks; they've managed much longer separations before. But they weren't doing _this_ before. They weren't buying a house together and working up to going public. In the face of everything that's happening, Harry never wants to let go.

"Come for dinner before you leave," Harry says.

"That's my line," Nick says, with a low laugh. "Though usually I can't get rid of you." He's got one hand on the door now, but Harry's still on his shoulder, refusing to get up, to be the one who starts the inevitable long separation. "Come on, love, I've got to go. I'll see you in a few days."

"No," Harry says. He could probably stay here for the night; the Grimshaws wouldn't mind, he doesn't think. But he's got plans with some old school friends tomorrow and he'd have to figure out how to get back. Not that it's a huge problem, just something he'd have to do. Nick sneaks a hand up under his jumper, the one that had been nearly opening the door a minute ago, so that he's holding Harry closer.

"Haz. Let your poor driver go home. It's late."

Harry sticks out his lip as he sits up, extra far to be sure Nick sees it. "Fine."

He stays that way as Nick climbs out of the car, keeping his pout up even in the face of Nick leaning back in for a goodbye kiss. He breaks when Nick nips at his lip, opening up for him for a few seconds. And then he's gone, and Harry's alone in the car, watching Nick make his way up to the front door of his parents' house.

~*~

Gemma's still awake when Harry gets back, curled up under a blanket in the living room, hair in a messy bun on top of her head, a black-and-white movie playing in the background whilst she scrolls through her phone.

He grabs another blanket and lies down with his head on her lap, shifting until she pays attention to him.

"I hate this," he says. Despite the call and having to bring along extra people to dinner, it's been a good day, really. Right up until the part where Nick had kissed him goodbye.

"We can pick something different to watch if you like," Gemma says. She's still looking at her phone, but her other hand is playing with his hair now, exactly the way he likes.

"What? No this is fine. I don't care." Harry pulls the blanket up over his shoulder more securely. "Laura called today. When we were at the football." Harry tells her about that call, and the night after it. "I'm away for so long for work and I hate that we have to watch what we do when I'm home. I'm tired of having separate lives all the time."

"That's why you're doing this though, yeah? You're not going to have to watch everything for much longer. You're buying a house. Moving in. That's big."

"It's months away," Harry complains. "I wanted him to come back with me tonight. Introduce him to my friends."

"Soon."

"May is ages away." Five months. Four and a half, probably. Two of which he'll be away on tour. He's not sure why they're waiting so long once Harry's back from the first leg, but he's agreed to the plan, so that's what they're doing.

"It'll go quickly. And then you'll be moving and you'll have your own home to come back to instead of taking over his."

"And he'll still be there," Harry says, smiling to himself. Gemma hums her agreement above him and keeps stroking his hair as he drifts off, head still pillowed in her lap.

~*~

Harry is only a little bit bitter when Alexa and Pixie start sending him photos on New Year's Eve. He's playing Scrabble with his family before dinner, which is probably about to cross the line into tipsy Scrabble, and his phone keeps going off with pictures of the sand and the beach and Nick at the decks, drink in hand, headphones on. They're all blurry and badly lit, but it's been ages since Harry's been able to go see Nick DJ a party.

His mum is shuffling her tiles around, and after her it's Gemma's turn, so Harry picks up his phone and texts Nick. _Looking hot. x._

The reply is nearly instant. _I'm all sweaty and disgusting. What have those horrid girls been sending you?_

_Nothing I want to see when you're all sweaty and disgusting_ , Harry sends back, trying to keep the smirk off his face, as he's with his family. _Miss you_ , he adds.

_It's been four days_ , Nick sends back. Harry knows enough to read between the lines. Harry had wanted to go with him, but he'd booked some studio time in LA for the first week of the New Year, and he would have had to cancel cancel that if he'd gone. He'd spent half an hour the other day trying to make the flights work, trying to find a way to walk onto Nick's plane and go with him. Also, Laura probably would kill him if he'd changed his plans last-minute like that. Next year, he promises himself. Next year, Harry's of half a mind to just kidnap Nick off somewhere private and tropical, just the two of them.

Next year they won't have to miss major holidays.

Harry keeps an eye on the clock as it ticks closer and closer to midnight in the Maldives. His turn's coming; there's about three open spots on the board, he's got four letters to get rid of, and it's five minutes to midnight.

As Gemma's laying out her word, careful not to disturb the tiles already on the board, Harry grabs his phone and opens Twitter.

_Be nice to everyone and do it five minutes early. Hope everyone has a lovely new year. Thank you for an amazing 2014. All the love .x_

Nick does have Harry's Twitter on text alerts, but Harry sends a text just for him, something he can get once he's finished his set, carrying through the countdown to midnight.

Nick's reply comes through at ten past seven (midnight). It's a blurry picture of fireworks and someone dancing on the beach and just says _Next year_.

Gemma hits his shoulder when Harry can't quite hide his smile as he tucks his phone away. It's time for dinner anyway.

~*~

**January, 2015**

It's bright and cold when Harry lands back at Heathrow mid-morning, but he doesn't have to be outside long. It's a short drive between terminals to the lounge where he'll wait for his bags and the customs officers.

He'd slept most of the way through the flight, but he still falls asleep in the car on the way back to Nick's. He's not expecting Nick to be home from work yet, as he normally gets home about half twelve for lunch and to walk Pig.

When he walks in, there's music playing, and whilst Harry knows that Nick usually leaves the radio on for Pig, he can't help the part of him that wants Nick to be home and waiting for him. Pig greets him at the door and follows him into the ensuite when he goes for a piss, butting her cold nose up against the back of his legs and making him shake with laughter. He probably should have locked her out, really, but he manages not to make a mess.

"Do I get a kiss hello, or are you just going to talk to my dog all day?" Nick calls from the living room.

In about five steps he's rounding the corner out the entry corridor and there's Nick, still tanned and freckled from the Maldives, and Harry all but throws himself into Nick's arms, holding on tight. It's not even been a month, but it's close enough and Harry's _missed_ him. They talk every day in some form or another, but it's not the same as being able to feel Nick's heartbeat under his fingers.

"Hi," Harry says, leaning in to kiss him. His breath is probably terrible, and Nick will complain later no doubt, but for now he's holding Harry just as tightly. "Shouldn't you still be at work?"

"Are you complaining?" He slides a hand down Harry's back and digs his fingers under Harry's waistband, right at the base of his spine. Harry shivers and presses closer.

"Don't think so?"

He lets Nick pull him down onto the sofa and hook a leg around his. They spend a few minutes sinking back together after weeks apart. This used to be frantic and desperate, coming together after letting each other go yet again, in the name of making things easier for them both.

It had never worked.

Now, it's a slow press of fingers and quiet breaths, sure and familiar, but still desperate, both aware of how limited their time always is. Even now Harry's barely home for a week before he's back in LA and then off to Australia for tour. Harry lets the world fall away for a few minutes, ignoring everything that exists outside of this room, even as he can hear one of their phones vibrating against the coffee table.

Harry doesn't mean to break the kiss, but he can't hold back a yawn, and has to bury his mouth in Nick's neck to avoid yawning directly in his face.

"Want to go have a nap? Sleep a bit before tea?"

Harry shakes his head. "Easier if I don't." Jet lag is the actual worst, and Harry swears he spends half his life not being synced up with the right time zone. He's got tricks to manage, but big jumps are still terrible. "I slept on the plane."

Nick sits up and they take a minute to rearrange so they're sitting side by side, Harry curled so that he can lay his head on Nick's shoulder.

"I've got something to show you," Nick says, opening his laptop. "I think I've found us a house."

~*~

Harry falls in love the instant they walk through the door. He's been through all the pictures on the website, as well as the ones Nick had taken on his first visit, poring over every detail of the rooms to the point where he feels like he's stepping into a house he's known forever. It's a nice feeling. It won't take that much work to make this house _theirs_.

There's a fireplace in every room, and the house feels large and echo-y, now that the owners have moved out. Harry's got three competing sets of images in his head now: the ones from the estate listing; the house as they're seeing it now; and one that has their furniture and art, and pictures of their friends and families lining the walls.

Harry makes a grab for Nick's hand, lacing their fingers together as they poke through the rooms on the ground floor, not caring that their estate agent can see.

He takes about a hundred pictures of his own, of the house, the views through the windows, of Nick poking through cabinets and rooms and wardrobes. Nick bumps his head on the ceiling when they go up to the loft, and Harry laughs at him before pulling him in for a hug. They twist together under their coats and stay on the second-floor terrace for a long time.

"This is it," Harry says. "This is our home."

"It's not as big as yours," Nick says. "No parking, no proper secured gates. Only one bathroom."

"That can be fixed," Harry says. They'd already talked about adding a bathroom on the second floor, when they were going over the floor plan. "The security things too. I'll talk to my team."

"We could just move into your house," Nick says. "It's got everything we're looking for already."

The cold from the bricks is seeping past Harry's coat, but he's not willing to let go of Nick and go back inside just yet. "Remember what the papers said when I bought the house?" Harry asks. "It's a bachelor pad, party palace."

"You barely live there now," Nick says. "It can be whatever we want it to be."

"That's not what I want, though. I want a house that's ours. Something that's ours from the start. This one." Harry shivers and pulls Nick in closer. "Please."

They fall silent. The house borders on a grassy common, and Harry can see people walking through, on their own or with friends or partners or kids or pets. It seems like a quiet neighborhood, one where they could settle for a while. Maybe longer than that, even.

"We should call your contractor, then," Nick says. "If we're going to build that second bathroom."

~*~

"Are we actually going to go to dinner?" Nick asks. "Your car will be here any minute."

"No," Harry says, settling further between Nick's legs. They're stretched out on the sofa, kissing lazily in the near-dark, since they've been sitting like this since before the sun set. There's no lights on in the house, just light from the neighbors spilling in through the conservatory. Harry noses at Nick's neck, scratching his lips on the bit of stubble Nick's got going. They'll probably show up more red than usual later, but Harry doesn't really care. "Let's skip dinner and go straight to bed."

"We're meeting people, you know that." Nick is trying to sound sensible, but his hands tighten on Harry's hips, drawing him in a fraction of an inch more, and his head falls back, giving Harry better access to his neck and jaw. "We're meeting your mum."

Harry desperately wants to leave a mark on him, but not tonight. At least not before they leave. It may be his birthday dinner, but it's also been very carefully planned. Laura is poised and ready to call a friendly photographer to catch them all leaving the restaurant. It's a small group, just him and Gemma and their mum, along with Lou and Lux. And Nick. They won't be arriving together, though.

The real problem is that Harry's leaving tomorrow and won't be back before April. He'll miss everything to do with their new house, even though Nick has promised to call and send pictures daily if the purchase goes through. He also won't be home for Valentine’s Day, for the first time since they'd met.

"They'll understand." Over on the table, Harry's phone goes off, ringing instead of just giving a single notification, which means it's probably the car. He's still in ratty jeans and one of Nick's t-shirts. He reaches out and gropes for the phone without looking, nearly dropping it under the sofa, so that he doesn't have to sit up quite yet, and he can pretend that they really aren't going anywhere.

"Maybe," Nick says. His hands have snuck up under Harry's shirt. Which Harry needs to change out of anyway. He sits up and answers the phone, which is, as expected, his car. He tells them he'll be right out, and then sits up on his knees, Nick laid out invitingly in front of him, and strips off his shirt. Nick tries to bury his head in the back of the sofa, but Harry gets his gaze back pretty quickly by skimming his hands up Nick's thighs and reaching for the button on his jeans.

"You menace."

Harry would answer but his mouth's a bit full of Nick's cock at the moment. Besides, it's not like Nick doesn't say this to him on a near-daily basis. Nick digs his hands into Harry's hair and tries to tug him off, but Harry is having none of it. No one really expects him to be on time anyway.

"We're about to go have dinner with your _mum_ ," Nick says, twisting his fingers further into Harry's hair. "You're supposed to be leaving right now."

Harry just hums a bit, and flattens his tongue against the underside of Nick's shaft, feeling the way Nick's cock jumps and strains in his mouth. Harry's hard, too, but it'll keep; he's more focused on Nick right now, digging his fingers into Nick's thighs, pinning his hips, and trying to suck him off as fast as possible. Because Nick is right, and they do have plans.

Plans that Harry doesn't really want to skip, because it would wreck the entire schedule for the next few months, and now that things are moving, Harry's not actually willing to wait any longer than he has to.

Luckily, Harry is very well practiced at this, and it only takes a few minutes before one last twist of his hand has Nick coming, spilling over into Harry's mouth and down his chin. Harry wipes his mouth on Nick's jeans and lazily strokes Nick through the aftermath before unfolding himself from the sofa and going to get a better shirt.

Harry takes a few extra minutes to clean his teeth, so that he isn't about to meet his mother with come-breath; by the time he gets out, Nick hasn't moved, and is still lounging on the sofa with his now-soft dick hanging out of his pants. Harry desperately wants to take a picture, but he's had to sit through more than one lecture recently about the dangers of keeping incriminating photos on his phone. He might be working up towards going public with Nick, but a leaked photo like this wouldn't do either of them any favors.

He goes to kiss Nick instead, kneeling down by him and pushing his fingers into Nick's hair to position him just right.

"You've ruined my jeans," Nick says, still a bit hoarse and breathless.

"Good thing you've got time to change, then," Harry says. "I've got to go. My car's waiting."

Nick gives him a small smile, and pushes at his chest, and Harry goes. He's texting his mum an apology for being late even before he climbs into the waiting car.

~*~

Harry sits next to Nick at dinner, though he's careful not to be too obvious about it. They're in a private room that feels huge and empty with a party their size, but there are waiters coming in and out to check on them, and Laura had called one more time whilst on their way to be sure before she called in the photographers, and to give him one last lecture about being careful.

Harry is very, very tired of being careful.

They linger over dessert and coffees until their waiters start coming in more and more frequently. Harry doubles the size of the tip he's leaving, feeling slightly guilty about keeping them from being able to do their jobs and go home. When Nick very badly covers a yawn, Harry knows it's really time to go.

This is the part that's been very carefully planned. Nick is supposed to look like a very close friend, but not like he's necessarily there with Harry as a date. Officially, he's there because he can't be at the party in Los Angeles, especially since he just came back from a three-week holiday. Really, though, it's just to test the waters of Nick’s being seen with Harry and his family, where they've been so careful for the last few years to not do that, even though it's common knowledge that Harry's mum texts Nick all the time.

They stand in the doorway long enough for the photographer outside to see Harry's face and start taking photos, flashes going off every second or so, even though they're just getting a blurry face through the glass right now. Their cars are waiting for them about ten meters away, but that's enough space for the pictures they need.

Harry goes first, holding Lux's hand, Lou on her other side, trying to shield her a bit from the bright flashing. Harry doesn't look at the cameras, but has to fight to keep the smile off his face. It turns out to not be all that difficult in the end, because it's just like any other time when he's been caught leaving somewhere. It's just that this time, Nick's walking a few paces behind, talking to his mum and probably Gemma. The pictures will be splashed all over tomorrow, with a carefully worded caption about the night, already prepared and sent off to one of Laura's contacts at The Sun. It'll be on the website within a few hours.

After seeing Lou and Lux into a cab, Harry watches as Nick hugs and kisses Anne's cheek, then Gemma's, waving at Harry before going to the taxi waiting for him, whilst Harry climbs into the car with his mum and sister. He'll see Nick soon — he's not spending his last night in London alone — but the momentary separation hurts anyway.

His heart is racing as the door closes, and he doesn't breathe normally until they're a few streets away, the photographer long gone behind them.

Gemma is sitting in the middle seat, and she wraps her arm around Harry's shoulders. He has to hunch a bit to make it easier for her, sliding down in the seat so that he's half lying down in the back of the car.

"You alright?" Gemma asks, at the same time as his phone lights up with a text from Nick, asking the same question. He answers Nick first.

"I don't know." He slips a bit further down the seat and runs a hand through his hair. "You remember my audition?"

There's a long pause before she answers him. "Which one?"

"The first one."

"Not really, sorry," Gemma says, smoothing his hair off his forehead. "It went so fast."

"Exactly. We were in line from four in the morning, stood around all day and then it was just a group of assistants, and it took two minutes."

"That was a long time ago," his mum says. "Nearly five years now."

"It's just — tonight felt like that. We've been planning this for a few months, and it was a nice dinner, but one photographer waiting for me is nothing. It doesn't feel like anything even happened."

"Maybe not right now," Anne says. "But that first audition wasn't much either, and here you are."

"Yeah," Harry says. Even though _here_ is in the back of a car with his mum and sister, whilst his boyfriend goes home alone, because they hadn't dared to get in the same car with photographers about. Even a friendly one.

It's nearly an hour before Harry gets back to Nick's. He'd meant to just leave his mum, but he'd ended up sending Gemma home in the car and coming in for a cup of tea. He's owned his house for a few years, but it still feels mostly foreign to him.

Nick is in bed when Harry gets home. An episode of the Simpsons playing, but Nick's not quite asleep yet. He's blinking slowly, though, so Harry cleans his teeth quickly and climbs into bed, eager to get close. And maybe to wake Nick up a bit more. He's leaving tomorrow at midday, and has to be at the airport right when Nick is finishing the show, so this is the last proper time they'll have. Harry intends to use it wisely.

~*~

**February, 2015**

Harry's just sitting down for a drink by the pool when his phone rings. A quick glance at his watch, always set to London time, tells him that it's just gone six am, and it's Nick's picture on his screen.

"Hiya," Harry says. He can't stop the smile that creeps onto his face, because it's been a few days since they've managed to catch each other on the phone, and today's a pretty big day on the Schedule, which has definitely taken on capital letters whenever Harry thinks about it.

It's a Friday, and the day before Valentine’s, and they've not got a show tonight. Harry wishes he could be in London for this, sneak into the studio and hide in the live lounge whilst the cameras are on. Still, at least he's not going anywhere so he'll be around to listen to the show.

"The inspector for the house came yesterday," Nick says. “Spent a few hours going through it. I asked about the renovations we've talked about, too."

"Yeah? Is everything good?" Harry's used to how long it can take to buy a house, but he's never been this anxious over it before.

"Mostly, yeah. A few small things that need to be fixed, I think," Nick says. "He's sending the full report over next week. Nothing major, though. Nothing to stop the sale. Might be able to negotiate a reduction in the price, though. That's what the solicitor said, anyway."

"Good, that's good."

"What about you? How's tour?"

"I wish I was home now," Harry says, completely ignoring the question. There's another six weeks of tour, which is far, _far_ too long when their life together seems to be moving along quite well without him. "It's Valentine’s tomorrow. I've never been away for that." Nick likes to pretend he's not into it, but Harry knows better.

"Not your fault?" Nick says. "I've got plans for tomorrow night anyway. Something I can actually talk about on the radio."

There's some distant noise down the line, Nick's talking to someone else, and then a car door closing.

"Are you just getting to work?"

"Yeah," Nick says. "Pig refused to walk in the rain, so I'm running a bit late."

Nick's been later, Harry knows; Fiona sometimes texts him pictures of Matty's annoyed face whilst they wait for Nick to show up. But today's a _day_ , and Nick tries to be on time for those.

"Florence is coming in, right? You said she's bringing in her new single?"

It's a pretty brilliant move, really. New music from Florence will attract a lot of listeners, but because she's a friend it'll make it easy for Nick to casually slip in a mention of Harry. Not by name, it's not soon enough for that, but he'll be talking about a boyfriend. Harry's already nervous.

"She'll be in around eight, once Jamie Dornan has gone and Fifi's calmed down. Talked to her last night about what we're doing. She says hi, by the way."

"Tell her I said hi back. And I love the track."

Nick's laughing when he replies. "You haven't even heard it yet."

"She's brilliant, though. And I'll be listening."

"You'd better be," Nick says. "Shit, I've got to go, there's people waiting. My hundreds of fans."

"Tell me you love me," Harry says.

"Do you really need to hear it right now?"

He loves when Nick says it, and he says it all the time, but that's not why. There's people around Nick, and even if they're just there to wait for Florence or Jamie Dornan, there's got to be at least a few that are fans of Nick's as well. Who will understand the significance of it if Nick says something like that on an otherwise private call.

"Yes," Harry says. "I miss you. But that's not why."

He can tell the moment Nick gets it, he sucks in a breath and goes quiet. Harry can hear the chatter of the people around him. Maybe there's one or two looking to get a picture from him on his way in. When Nick does speak again, his voice is a bit shaky, but also louder than usual, which is saying something.

"I love you," Nick says. "And I'll talk to you later. I've got to go."

"Thank you," Harry says. "Now go be brilliant."

Nick disconnects the call first, and Harry has to wait a minute before his smile has dissipated enough to drink. Niall sits down next to him as he's picking up the garnish and chewing on the fresh pineapple.

"Something happening today?" He asks.

"I don't think so?" Niall's usually a lot better at tracking their schedules than Harry is. "We're off until sound check tomorrow, I thought."

"I mean with you," Niall says. "With Grimmy. You've got that face on."

"I don't have a face!" Harry protests, even though he's pretty sure it's true.

Niall follows Harry back to his room once his drink is empty, and Harry pulls up his laptop and opens the stream for Radio One. Nick's show is already started, and Harry toys with his phone whilst the music plays. Nick is a bit all over when he does speak, losing track of a story he's telling halfway through.

_You alright? You sound weird._ Harry texts.

The song ends before Harry gets a response, but then Nick's talking about it on the radio.

"Do I sound weird today, Matt Fincham?" Nick says. "My friend's just texted me to tell me I sound weird. Good friend, that."

"You're a bit — "

"Hyper," Fiona finishes for Matt.

"Excited," Nick says. "Florence off Florence and the Machine is coming in today. It's like musical royalty. Have to make sure everything's spotless, practice your greetings, wait for her to speak to you."

"She is pretty amazing," Matt agrees.

"And Jamie Dornan," Fiona says, giggling a bit on his name.

"And Jamie Dornan," Nick repeats. They all slip back into the usual banter. Nick talks about Pig's refusal to walk in the rain.

"I should get her boots," Harry tells Niall. "Have you seen those videos online?"

Niall is typing something into his phone, and not paying attention to Harry, which is a travesty because he's the one who has invaded Harry's room. Harry pokes him until he looks up.

"Sorry, what?"

Harry shrugs.

"What are we listening for?"

"He's going to talk about us," Harry says. "Sort of." He's combing through Nick's mentions on Twitter, and he's found a few pictures from this morning. He looks good, Harry thinks. Hair already done up, wearing one of Harry's shearling coats and a jumper underneath. There's at least one person who mentions the overheard phone conversation, but it doesn't look like anyone else has found it yet. "No names, but the plan is for him to mention a boyfriend."

"You," Niall says, pointing at Harry and grinning.

"Me," Harry agrees.

~*~

Harry spends the time texting Nick, answering emails that he's ignored over the travel days, and browsing Twitter. He responds to a few people, follows a few more, and reads a lot of the DMs that have come in. He'll never be able to read all of them, but he tries. He texts his mum to be sure she's listening too, though she listens more than he's able to, sometimes.

It happens after Nick plays the song. He's already had a good chat to Florence, the type of interview that's barely an interview because she's his friend anyway. She talks about performing at his birthday, they both laugh over the last time Nick had interviewed her when they'd both been too drunk to really make it a conversation. Harry has to squeeze Niall's hand because he's still not okay with the fact that he'd had to miss Nick's thirtieth.

"What do we think of that?" Nick asks as the song fades out. "I quite liked it." Agreement runs around the studio, and then Nick starts reading out texts from the system. "I think you're quite liked, Florence. You're going to be massive."

"Thanks," she says.

"My friend's mum just texted. She says she loves it," Nick says. Harry barely has time to wonder whether it's his own mum before Nick is answering the question. "Thanks Anne, for letting us know. Your opinions are highly valued around here."

Harry can tell that Nick's trying to make it a joke, even though he really does like hearing from her. Nick takes a deep breath, and Harry suddenly knows what's coming. The pause isn't more than a second, but it's enough for Harry's heart to jump into his throat and grab for Niall's hand.

"My boyfriend says he loves it as well," Nick says. "Don't know if he's actually heard it because he said that before we played it. I think he just fancies you."

Florence laughs, and Nick goes back to reading texts from the computer right away. No one comments on the revelation Nick's just made. Everyone's clearly been told beforehand.

Harry reaches for his phone and texts Nick. _I am listening. Loved the track._ He sends a second one a minute later. _Love you. x._

Nick puts on another song, and when they come back Nick ropes Florence into doing Happy Hardcore FM, and there's no more mentions of boyfriends.

~*~

The morning of their second Melbourne show, Harry wakes up to an email with approximately two hundred attachments of articles about _Nick Grimshaw's Secret Squeeze_. More like twelve, really, but there are definitely a lot.

The breakdown, from Laura, is that seven explicitly list him as a possibility, three more allude to past rumours about their relationship, calling on that old interview with GQ as some sort of evidence, and the last two don't bring him into it at all.

He opens the article from _The Sun_ first, since that's the first one on the list, but also the one most likely to be close to the official statement, such as it is.

> _Though Grimmy has been linked to a number of different men in the past few years, including Italian designer Nicco Torelli and One Direction singer Harry Styles, he has always stubbornly insisted that he's single. That seems to be changing now that Grimmy's mentioned a boyfriend on the Radio One Breakfast Show._
> 
> _An inside source tells_ The Sun _that he is very happy at home these days. "They've been friends for a long time, and this is new for both of them. But they're very happy. They're good for each other."_
> 
> _Grimmy has been rumoured to be house-hunting for a while now, looking for something bigger. Maybe this isn't as new as he wants us to believe. Nick's representatives declined to comment, but have a look at the slideshow below and tell us who you think his new beau is._

Michael is the first picture in the slide show, a picture taken off Nick's own Instagram, then Harry, but there's also Jack and George and Henry. Harry flips through the other articles and notices a few have said that his own representatives declined to comment. He'll have to ask Laura about that, to see if they're just attempting to up their circulation with his name.

It's the middle of the night back home, and even if it is still Saturday night, it's too late to call Nick, so Harry texts him instead. Something for him to see when he wakes up.

_Saw the papers. Looks like everything's on track. Love you. x._

~*~

They come off stage a few days later and bolt directly for the cars and the airport. It's gross, this thing where they have to spend hours on a plane after working up a sweat on stage, but they all smell equally, at least.

He's in the car with Niall and Liam, and since they've got at least a twenty-minute drive, Harry pulls up his phone. He's meant to call Nick, but he goes to post his usual post-show tweet, and instead finds that they're dominating the trending topics.

"Shit," he says, and passes the phone to Niall. " _Fuck._ This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this."

Niall gives the phone to Liam, who frowns at it before handing it back and pulling out his own. Harry pulls up the link that's being passed around with the hashtag #returnoflarrystylinson.

There's a picture of him and Nick from his birthday dinner, and the first two paragraphs are exactly the same as everything else has been all week. But then it continues.

> _Grimmy has most recently been spotted with photographer Michael Mayren, walking his dog in Hackney, where he's rumored to be buying a house. Sources say they're very serious about each other; are wedding bells on the horizon?_
> 
> _With Grimmy off the market and caught up in his new romance, what will that mean for poor Hazza, set to return to London after touring Asia with One Direction? Harry, who alluded to being bisexal last autumn, hasn't dated anyone publicly in over a year. Now that his best friend has gone public with his new relationship, maybe it's time that he does the same? Could we be looking at the return of Larry Stylinson? Only time will tell._

The car is slowing down, approaching a set of gates guarded by security, and beyond that their two planes are waiting on the tarmac. He needs to call Nick. He needs to talk to Louis, and the other car is a few minutes behind them, likely stalled to let everyone have a smoke before leaving.

Zayn answers Louis's phone. "Yes, we saw it," he says before Harry can get a word out.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," Harry says. "Laura promised me. There were all those plans."

"He knows it's not your fault, but he's being flooded with messages. I've taken his phone so he doesn't go on Twitter until things calm down a bit, so it's not going to make the situation any worse."

Harry doesn't want to just keep it from getting worse; he wants to make it better.

"Tell him I'm sorry, yeah?" The car door opens and they're being beckoned out, which means Harry now has about three minutes to talk to Nick, too. "I've got to make another call before we take off. I'll see you when we get to Perth, yeah?"

"Go on, we're fine."

"Tell him, Zayn. Please." It wasn't supposed to happen like this. They'd sent off the article to The Sun very carefully keeping the identity of Nick's secret boyfriend just that, a secret. They weren't supposed to print anything more. No one was. There were no other available sources.

Nick doesn't pick up his phone, which is a first, really. He's done with the radio, and Harry had said he'd call when the show was over. He'd just got distracted. He calls again, and ends up in Nick's voicemail, again, and then he's being herded onto the jet, stomach a lead pit of worry.

~*~

It's nearly a full day before Harry manages to get Louis on the phone. They're still trending on Twitter, though a bit further down the worldwide list than they had been, and Harry's been asleep for most of the rest of Nick's day, so he hasn't been able to talk to him, either.

Zayn and Louis have gone off somewhere, with a few friends and security, wanting to spend some time where they wouldn't be boxed in by fans at every turn. Harry really doesn't want to intrude on their holiday, but he really needs to talk to Louis.

At least he answers his own phone this time.

"You alright?" Harry asks.

Louis doesn't answer. Harry's in his room, the curtains drawn closed so that no one down below can tell if he's in or not. There's a chant of some sort starting, but it's impossible to pick out individual words from this far above the crowd. Harry wonders they're trying to lure someone out to wave and say hi. Niall will probably go, if he's not trying to sleep. Or Liam.

"I'm sorry," Harry says. "We didn't think this would happen. Not from the press. Though Yahoo isn't exactly top of the list for reliability."

Louis sucks in a breath, probably smoking. "Fuck, Haz. I know it's not you."

"It is this time, isn't it? If I wasn't doing this thing with Nick — " Harry takes a deep breath. "Look, you've seen the plans, yeah? It's set up so that we can stop if it doesn't look like it'll work. If the fallout's worse than we think."

"What are you asking me?" Louis sounds weary, tired. They've only been on the road for a few weeks, though not playing all that many shows, compared to what they've done before. It's still exhausting, though. Living out of hotels is never ideal, no matter how nice those hotels are.

"I told you at the start that we wouldn't go through without everyone being alright. If you're not, you need to tell me."

"What did Nick say? When you asked him that."

Harry frowns. "I haven't. He's didn't answer his phone, and it's the middle of the night back home." His phone is still showing a Twitter alert from Nick, but their normal text conversation is stalled. The last message Nick had sent was the usual _good luck on stage_ , sent about ten minutes into the performance because Nick's about as useless at time zones as Harry is, and he tends to remember that they're performing only when Harry doesn't text back right away.

"Look, I know it's not your fault, but it's hard not to be angry when this keeps coming up." Louis sighs, and Harry imagines that he's pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he's trying not to show something on his face. He'll be doing it even though they're only on the phone. "Just give me some space, yeah? Go talk to your boyfriend."

Louis hangs up, and Harry turns his phone face down on the bed before going out to find someone to distract him. Cal said something about setting up a meeting with some fans.

~*~

Nick calls just as Harry is sitting down to dinner with Niall and his dad. He hates being rude and answering the phone at the table, but it's a call he can't miss so he makes a face that he hopes says _I'm sorry_ and takes his phone outside.

Outside the air is sticky-warm, and there are a few girls watching from the other side of the street, but as much as Harry hates to ignore their fans, this phone call is more important.

"Hi," he breathes out.

"Hiya, you alright?" Nick says, and Harry feels something loosen in his chest, a tiny knot of worry that's been sitting uneasily since last night. Nick sounds perfectly normal, but Harry knows that doesn't mean much when his job is to be upbeat and cheery on the radio all week. Harry desperately wishes he could just fly home for a few days, but with the schedule they've got it's just not possible. Well, he could do this weekend, but it's Fashion Week and he'd barely get to see Nick.

"Fine. Good." Now that he's got Nick on the phone he's not sure how to have the conversation they need to have. Laura had promised to control as much of the media narrative as she could, and as much as Harry wants to blame her for this mess, he can't, not really. "You okay?"

"Fine, yeah. Talked to Michael. He's a bit confused by all the attention but it's not bad, really."

"I'm not so sure about that. Being linked to you is terrible. I'll never get over it." Harry's smiling as he talks, but Nick doesn't respond right away, and the smile slides off his face, stomach knotting up again. "Nick?"

"I'm fine. It's nothing." The ambient rumble of London cuts off, which means Nick is probably home.

"People weren't being too horrible to you online, were they? I didn't see much of it."

"No, just the usual things."

He sounds resigned to it, which is the worst part. He shouldn't have to be. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Nick says. They've had this conversation so many times over the years.

"Yeah, it is."

Nick doesn't respond, and Harry's heart drops just a tiny bit.

"It'll die down," Nick says. He's forcing cheer into his voice, Harry can tell, but he's too far away to corner Nick on it.

"Everything's still fine, though," Harry says. "I spoke to Lou, he's still fine with us going ahead." Across the street, he can see that the girls are barely holding themselves back from approaching, so he doesn't wait for Nick to respond. "How's our house?"

"It's good. Still on track to complete the sale in a few weeks. I've a meeting with our agent next week."

"Get me on Skype if I'm not on stage, yeah?"

"Of course," Nick says.

"I love you." Harry can never say it enough, especially since he's not there to be able to show Nick in person. "And I've got to go. There's a group of girls across the street who are going to charge any minute."

"Go on, make those girls' years." Nick hangs up first, leaving Harry frowning at his phone for a few moments before someone appears in front of him with a polite, "Excuse me?"

He puts on a smile and takes a few pictures before going back inside for dinner.

~*~

**March, 2015**

Harry is out at the hotel pool when the call comes through. He's been expecting it all day, sitting in the sun with a seemingly never-ending supply of sweet drinks whilst he listens to Nick's show, then his own playlist. Nick's promised to call him right away, and Harry knows that it's not going to be straight after his show, but all the same, the wait is killing him.

He's got his phone face-down on his stomach, his eyes closing as the sun seeps under his skin, and he jumps badly enough when it rings that he can hear a loud cackle from Niall over at the pool bar. Harry sticks up a finger in his direction before scrambling to his feet and hurrying inside to his room.

"Hello?" He's a bit breathless as he answers, fumbling the door into the hotel as he does. He hadn't looked at the screen, so there's a small possibility that anyone could be calling him, but Harry really doesn't want that to be the case.

"Hiya," Nick says. "You alright?"

"Yeah, good," Harry says. Against the bright sunlight, the corridor he's walking down is dim and he has to squint a bit as his eyes adjust. "You?"

"I've just been to the solicitor's," Nick says. Harry can hear the smile in his voice, and his heart beats faster. "I've signed the papers, and I'm on my way to get our keys."

Harry wishes he could be there, that they could get their keys and go into their new house together. The house isn't even technically _theirs_ , it's just got Nick's name on the contract. Nick's been talking about moving for half a year now, and there are enough people paying attention to him that signing a contract together would have given them away before the end. Their solicitor had assured them that the property could be transferred into joint ownership in a few months without much fuss.

"Are you going to go get twenty copies of it? Give them all away before we even move in?" Harry knows what Nick's like. He'd been given a key to Nick's flat just after that first Christmas, which had been thrilling and a bit of a disappointment at the same time. He'd been given a _key_ , a way for Harry to come and go in Nick's _home_ as much as he wanted. But then, all of Nick's closest friends had a copy, too. Nick just really hates being alone.

"Only getting a few," Nick says. "Mine, yours, a spare for guests, and one for Ian and Aimee, probably, in case I lock myself out."

Harry's breath catches, and he's quite glad he's now alone in his room. He hadn't — well, he hadn't really expected that. "But what about everyone else? Collette and Emily are over most nights."

"They can knock. They've not got broken hands," Nick says.

Nick is trying to make a joke, but Harry has to sit down on the bed for a minute. It's not that he minds the way Nick's flat is a social hub. Everyone mostly leaves them alone when Harry's home anyway, but it's weird to contemplate a house that really is just for them. Exciting. Amazing. "Oh."

"I've been to see the contractor, too," Nick says. "A few days ago. It'll probably take six months to do the work. He wants to come in and see the space himself before we draw up plans and do a full estimate."

"Did we decide on having a full bathroom or are we adding a dressing room as well? I can't remember."

They've been talking about what they want to do in the house for weeks now, in sleepy, wistful conversations in the middle of the night for Harry, bedtime for Nick, or in the early spaces of the morning when Nick's just waking up and Harry's in between places.

"We'll get plans for both, get some options." There's a dull thud at the other end of the line. "I'm here," Nick says. "Just got out of the taxi. April's waiting for me."

"Don't hang up," Harry says. "Switch me to Facetime."

Nick does. Harry can't see Nick's face with the way he's holding the camera, but he can hear everything. Nick talks to April for a few minutes, the picture swinging wildly as Nick moves his hands around as he's talking. It makes Harry a bit dizzy, but he's already halfway there just with the knowledge that they own a _house_ together. Their first home. Theirs.

April seems to notice that Nick's phone is on halfway through.

"Is that Harry?" she asks. Harry can only assume she's pointing at the phone.

"What?"

Some days, Harry really hates that Nick's first reaction to being asked about him is to deflect, pretend it didn't happen. This is April, who has been working with Nick on finding a house for ages, and who knows why Nick's moving, and Nick still metaphorically flinches at Harry's name in public.

"Hi," Harry says, raising his voice so she can hear. "You alright?"

The picture moves again, and then Nick's face is in the frame, along with April's. She's smiling widely.

"You ready to own a house?"

"He owns about five already," Nick says.

"Heyyyy," Harry says. "It's different."

Nick can't keep his smile in either. Yeah, it is.

"John's already sent me copies of the signed contracts, which means these," she holds up a set of keys and shakes them slightly, "are yours."

Harry's got a hotel key card instead of real, heavy keys in his hand, but he squeezes it tightly anyway, feeling the smooth edge cut into his palm, because Nick is now holding keys to their own house. Harry's eyes are a bit wet and blurry.

"Thanks," Nick says, his voice more rough than usual. A sure giveaway that he's getting a bit emotional. This is the part of touring that's rubbish. This thing where he talks to Nick constantly but can't reach through the phone to hug him tightly and marvel that they've just bought a home.

"I'll leave you boys to it, then," she says. The camera goes wobbly again, and Harry assumes she's giving Nick a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He can hear their goodbyes, and then it's just Nick on a quiet London street, holding a phone with Harry on Facetime, the keys to their house in his hand.

Nick doesn't move, and Harry's looking at the sky and a tiny piece of Nick's hair.

"Well go on then, Grim. Take us home."

Nick brings the camera up and his eyes are suspiciously red. Harry knows his are, too.

"Which way do you want to look," Nick asks. "I can flip the camera around so you can see the house."

Harry shakes his head. "I want to see you." It's what he'd be looking at if he were there in person. "It's like you're carrying me over the threshold."

"And this way I can actually hold you up," Nick says. "Me and my spaghetti arms."

"You hold me just fine," Harry says, leering. Nick laughs, and then swears.

"Oh shit, I've dropped the keys. Auspicious beginning."

The camera moves again as Nick picks up the keys and unlocks the front door. And then he's looking straight at Harry.

"Here we go."

Harry's never hated being on tour more in his life. There's a gorgeous view of the ocean outside the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows in his hotel room, and the sun's just dipping down, starting to turn the sky warm reds and golds, but Harry might as well be buried in snow somewhere.

They've both bought property before, but that's not the point, really. This is where Harry will come home from now on. It doesn't feel real yet.

Nick walks through the living rooms to the kitchen and out to the garden, and Harry watches his face the whole time.

"I miss you," he says when Nick turns to go back inside. They talk all the time, but it's been months since he's got to hold Nick.

"You'll be home soon, love," Nick says. His voice is still a bit choked up. "Just a few weeks now."

Being on tour is a bit like living in a bubble, Harry's found. They go out a bit when they can, but mostly it's being sequestered in hotels, being shuttled to planes and stadiums and the occasional studio for press. Nothing feels real on tour. Nick's in their home, but it's still a dream for Harry.

"Soon."

~*~

**April, 2015**

Harry turns his phone back on as soon as their plane is on the ground. It's the middle of the night, but he's finally home, and he's about to walk into his new house with Nick for the first time. He doesn't even have a key yet.

"It's the middle of the night," Nick moans when he answers. "And it's Sunday. And I'm on holiday."

Harry just grins stupidly enough that Niall throws his balled-up show t-shirt at him. It smells rank, and it's still damp, so Harry throws it back. He misses and it lands at Niall's feet on the other side of the aisle. Whatever, Harry can't be bothered. He's going to see Nick again in about an hour. In their house.

"I'm home," Harry says. "We've just landed. You'd better wake up and let me in when I get there. I'll want tea."

"It's half four right now."

"And it'll be half five when I get there. You're usually awake by then." Harry bounces his knee as he waits for the doors to be open. He'd packed everything back into his bag as soon they'd started their descent, and he just has to wait for his trunk to be loaded into the car.

"I'm on holiday," Nick whinges.

"Which means you can go back to sleep after you've greeted me properly."

"Fine, you terrible child. I'll make tea. I missed you."

"Love you. See you soon."

The streets are empty as they drive, sun not even starting to lighten the sky. It's cold but clear, and it'll be a gorgeous Easter Sunday, once it's actually day. Harry follows the path of the car on his phone, watching the distance between wherever they are and the house slowly shrink. He calls Nick again when they're a few minutes out, so that he can open the door quickly.

Harry's taken his coat off during the ride, so by the time they pull up in front of the house and it's not warm, he has to nearly vault inside. Nick's opened the gate to the front garden, and when Harry gets to the front door, he finds it unlocked. Pig is nowhere to be seen, probably tucked up in bed still, but Nick is in the kitchen at the back of the house, pouring water from the kettle into two mugs. Harry barely lets him put the kettle down before he's across the room and pulling Nick close, burying his face in Nick's neck just to breathe him in.

"Hi," Harry says, pulling back just enough so that he can capture Nick's mouth with his own. He's brushed his teeth since he woke up, and his mouth is mint-chilly but soft and familiar and home. Harry sneaks a hand up under his shirt to feel skin, whilst the other one threads into Nick's hair, tilting his head to the perfect angle so that Harry can deepen the kiss and start to make up for all the long weeks he was gone.

A cough from the doorway breaks them apart, but Harry doesn't let Nick pull away.

"Where do you want your case, sir?" the driver asks. Harry's bag and heavy tour case are sitting on the floor in the hallway.

"You can leave them there," Harry says. "Thanks."

He reaches for his wallet and gives the driver a tip, then locks the door behind him.

"So," Harry says, turning back to Nick. "Want to give me a tour?"

Nick takes the hint, and smiles, pulling Harry in close again. "What would you be interested in seeing?"

Harry kisses him again instead of answering, and pulls Nick in the direction of the stairs. They stumble a few times, knocking into the walls, skewing all the picture frames that Nick's hung already. Pictures of their friends and family and the two of them all mixed together and nearly completely covering the walls. They'd spent a long few hours on Skype one day when Harry didn't have a show, deciding which pictures to hang where. Harry's favorite of the two of them is at the top of the stairs on the second floor, right outside the bedroom. _Their_ bedroom.

Aimee had taken it; she'd come over on a Sunday last summer, looking for someone to watch Thurston for the evening and had found them nursing hangovers on Nick's sofa, tipped over each other. Nick is on his back with his mouth hanging open and snoring (loud enough to be heard three counties away, according to her). Harry is wedged between him and the cushions, drooling all over Nick's shirt, hair hiding most of his face.

They hadn't known she'd taken it until she'd had it printed and framed and given it to them as a Christmas present.

Harry touches the corner of the frame, remembering, and then turns his attention to Nick, backing him up until they hit the bed, and Harry can sprawl on top of him.

Pig huffs from somewhere near the pillows and hops down off the bed to go sleep somewhere else, and Harry makes a mental note to say hello to her, too, but later. He needs some time to remind himself that Nick is _real_.

"I thought you wanted tea," Nick says.

"Obviously I changed my mind," Harry says, tugging Nick's shirt up to get at his chest. He rakes his fingers through the hair there. "Sex now, tea later."

"That all I'm good for? Just sex?"

For all his complaining, Nick seems rather happy to have Harry back, too. He's tugging at Harry's shirt, and his beanie has landed somewhere near the new door to the bathroom, Harry thinks.

He leans down to kiss Nick and ends up with a mouthful of his own hair instead, and falls to the side laughing hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. He's so exhausted; two months on tour and an overnight flight and he can barely tell which way is up and now his own hair is cockblocking him. Kissblocking? Their cocks aren't even involved yet, though Harry would very much like them to be. Nick smooths it out of his face and leans in. It works much better with Harry on his back, his hair falling backwards off his face. He wiggles his hips again, spreading his knees and letting Nick settle on top of him.

Harry stills for a minute, hand on Nick's waist, touching a sliver of bare skin because they've still not managed to take their tops off. Nick swallows, and Harry follows the movement of his throat with his eyes.

"Have I got something on my face?" Nick asks.

"Yeah," Harry says, "me." He pulls Nick down because he doesn't have the words for what he needs to say to Nick right now. He's been functionally living with Nick for ages now, but that had happened mostly because Harry just never left when he was in London. They've been talking about a house for ages, as something to do someday, at first. But now they're here, in their bed. In their house.

"Does that ever work?" Nick asks. He answers it himself because the last words are muttered direction against Harry's lips.

He rolls them over again, careful to shake his hair to one side and tuck it behind his ears so it doesn't get in the way again. He has to wrench himself away from Nick's mouth so he can sit up and drag his shirt over his head. He hasn't showered, and he's just spent hours on a plane but if Nick has any complaints he can stuff it. Or, stuff Harry. Either way.

They're closer to the edge of the bed then he thinks, and when he tries to get off Nick so he can take off his jeans and pants and _finally_ be naked, he lands on his arse on the floor next to the bed. At least Pig's got over her thing about rugs, so he's not landing directly on cold wood.

Nick barks out a laugh above him.

"Shut up," Harry grumbles. He's just home from tour; Nick is not allowed to laugh at him. When he looks up again, Nick isn't laughing, just watching Harry where he's still laid out on the floor next to the bed.

"You should come back up here," Nick says. "Without your pants, obviously."

That, Harry can do. He sits up and gets his feet under him. Once he's standing, he shimmies his jeans and pants down off his hips, stepping carefully with one leg at a time to get them off his feet. His socks go at the same time. It's only when he hears Nick trying not to laugh again that he realizes he's still in his shirt, so he chucks it at Nick's head.

Of course, now that Harry is completely naked and more than half-hard, his cock hanging heavy between his legs, Nick is fully dressed, and that won't do. Harry flops down on the bed next to Nick and shoves at him until he's rolling off the bed and to his feet. He tosses Harry's shirt back at him and Harry throws it to the floor.

"Have we got lube?" Harry hasn't been home in months and Nick's moved house since. Lube is one of those things you bin because you don't want to bother packing it. Nick knew Harry was coming home, but that doesn't mean he remembered to go to the chemist.

"Drawer," Nick says, pointing to the bedside table to Harry's left. "Condoms too."

Harry pulls open the drawer, empty except for a bottle of lube and a folded strip of condoms. He tosses the one onto the bed and turns back to Nick, who is naked now, arms crossed over his chest. Harry takes a minute to appreciate the view before speaking.

"I thought — maybe we don't need the condoms tonight?" It's not the first time they've fucked bare, but it's a rare thing, and not just because Harry's gone all the time. It's intense, more than they'd expected the first time they'd done it, back before they'd even agreed that they were going out properly this time. For good, even if they hadn't quite said those words.

"It's morning," Nick says. He blinks twice.

"Not the point. I just got home. Our home. And I want to feel you."

Nick climbs back onto the bed, moving until he's kneeling above Harry. He nods. "Alright."

They kiss again, Nick slowly sinking down until he's lying half on top of Harry, one of Harry's legs hooked up around his hip.

"Which way around are we doing this?" Nick asks between kisses. It takes a long time for the question to be finished.

And even longer for Harry to answer. "You're fucking me," he says. He needs that, needs Nick to bring him all the way home. They've plenty of time to switch things around later.

They kiss for a while longer, slow and desperate. There's an urgency simmering under Harry's skin, making each touch electric. He's fully hard now, rutting up against Nick's belly and leaving streaks of wet behind. God, it's been too long. Toys and Skype and his hand are nowhere near enough to make up for Nick's fingers on him. In him. Which is what he should be doing right now, instead of tracing over Harry's tattoos.

"Come on," Harry says. "Fuck me already. It's been ages."

Nick laughs, low and rumbling, and reaches for the lube. Harry lets his eyes drift shut as Nick works his way down Harry's body, mouthing at his nipples, his abs, his hips.

"Are you actually asleep?" Nick says.

Harry blinks, flushing bright red as he realizes that he might have been. Nick's got a few fingers in him, twisting slow and deep, and Harry doesn't remember Nick doing that at all.

" 'm just being quiet," Harry says, voice a bit slurred. "Neighbors."

"Should we finish this or do you want to sleep?" He strokes his fingers over Harry's prostate, a small half-smile on his face.

Harry's awareness of his own body comes back to him in pieces, starting with where Nick's fingers are still moving in him, and spreading to his still-hard dick, and out to his fingertips. He clutches his hand around Nick's arm, feeling the warm skin in his palm.

"Please," Harry says. "Fuck me, Nicholas."

Nick kisses the corner of his mouth. "Don't fall asleep on me again, darling. Eyes on me."

It's possible that Nick knows Harry a bit too well, but it's not like Nick doesn't fall asleep in weird places either. Not when they're about to fuck, though. Harry blames the jetlag.

Another few twists of Nick's fingers and Harry is wide awake again, gripping the sheets and unable to pull Nick closer because his limbs still feel quite sluggish with sleep.

"Come on," he says.

Nick sits back on his heels and slicks up his dick, giving it a few strokes before wiping the extra off on Harry's stomach. Harry isn't complaining because he'll probably get himself even messier in a bit. He's right on edge now, his legs up around Nick's waist, the blunt head of Nick's cock resting against his hole. He digs his heels into Nick's back, needing him to get on with it.

Nick does. He presses forward, hooking one of Harry's heels up over his arm, spreading him open and pushing in, slow and sure. There's nothing like this, the first push of being fucked, being filled up. And not just by a toy, not with an extra barrier of latex between them. There's nothing separating any part of them right now, and it's even more overwhelming than Harry remembers. Maybe it's everything else as well.

The stretch of his legs burns, but Harry is ridiculously glad for all the yoga he does because it means he can fold himself a bit tighter and kiss Nick as they start to move. Slow and tight little thrusts at first, until Nick pulls himself away from Harry's mouth and gets some leverage against the bed. He fucks into Harry with long, smooth strokes, nearly pulling out each time. Harry not-so-quietly loses his mind each time Nick bottoms out, swiveling his hips each time to get just that tiny bit deeper.

Nick comes first, and Harry can feel it, liquid warmth spilling inside him as Nick drives deep one last time. He strains forward to kiss Harry again, panting into his mouth and bumping noses more than actual kisses, but Harry waits him out, holding his head in place until he's come down enough to do it properly.

Harry hates the empty feeling Nick leaves behind when he pulls out, but he barely has time to think about it, because Nick's mouth and hand are on his dick. Nick pulls off just as Harry starts to come, and Harry shoots all over his chest, eyes locked with Nick's in the early dawn light.

After, Nick only pretends to protest when Harry pulls him close, muttering something about the mess as their stomachs slide together, mixing lube and come between them. It's disgusting if Harry stops to think about it, and they will have to clean up and probably wash the sheets later, but for now Harry is content to hold Nick close and soak up his warmth and finally let it sink in that he's _home_.

~*~

"Just a little bit longer and we can go to bed," Harry says into Nick's ear. They've been awake for nearly twenty-four hours now, between Harry waking up too early, body still stuck a few hours ahead of the UK, and the flight from London to Los Angeles. At least it's a lot warmer here.

He sways a bit as they approach the doors, bumping his shoulder into Nick's, but careful not to hold on to him too much. He's already been informed that there's a crowd of fans and photographers outside, but there's a car waiting for them, so it's just a matter of crossing a few meters of pavement. They should be able to do that, even though they're both tired as all hell and slightly on the wrong side of tipsy, courtesy of the bottle of wine Harry had ordered with dinner. And the cocktails they'd had before.

"Not every day I end up in the American press with a popstar," Nick says, breath hot against Harry's neck. He wants nothing more than to lean into the touch, but as close as they're getting to the end of this grand _plan_ , they're not there yet. It'll make a big enough splash that they're together in Los Angeles, Laura had explained in a long phone call before they'd gotten on the plane; they need to be careful about how close they are in public, especially in front of the American press, which would construe physical contact as something to gossip about.

Harry squeezes Nick's hand behind his back before moving outside and towards the car, camera flashes blinding him a bit. At least he's not driving. There's a small cluster of fans right next to the car, and Harry stops to say hello to them, taking a camera and getting a picture with all of them at the same time, whilst Nick brushes past and into the car.

The windows are tinted dark enough that no one will be able to get pictures through the glass, so as soon as the doors are closed and they've pulled away from the pavement, Harry slumps down across the backseat and lays his head in Nick's lap. He probably should put on a seatbelt, but he doesn't really care to right now. Nick automatically pulls the hair tie out and lets his fingers slide into Harry's long hair. It feels heavenly. Harry doesn't remember anything else until they get to the house.

~*~

Watching Nick DJ is something that Harry's sorely missed over the last few years. Even when he's home, and when Harry's got an invite to the same parties, he's been warned too many times about his habit of following Nick around London to events where they'll be photographed.

It's bullshit, but it's nearly over.

For all that Nick constantly talks about not being able to mix or DJ, he's actually extremely good at it, pouring his entire concentration into the decks. Harry stays mostly at the side, talking to Alexa and Pixie and Aimee, but it's difficult to carry on a conversation when he keeps getting distracted by the way Nick's fingers are working the knobs.

"Sorry, what?" Harry asks when Aimee pokes him in the side. He tears his eyes away from where Nick is adjusting his headphones, half-smiling over his shoulder at them and turns red when he sees everyone staring at him, knowing smirks on all their faces. "Fuck off."

It's a small party, but everyone has phones, and there are a few photographers wandering around taking pictures of the attendees, probably for the sponsor's website. He's not asked them to avoid him, but he's been warned by Laura not to be too obvious, the same way she'd warned him about it before they'd flown off to LA in the first place.

"I think it's sweet," Pixie says, "the way he can't stop watching."

"You wouldn't think it's sweet if you'd lived with them," Aimee says.

"You never did," Harry says. "We've barely moved into the new house."

"I'm talking about when you met," Aimee says. "Nick’s old flat had thin walls. Not that you ever closed the door."

"Didn't have to live with them to know what they sound like. Remember Grim's birthday a few years back?" Pixie asks. "When we all went to brunch?"

"Oh god," Alexa says. "I've tried to forget about that. There were paparazzi all over the pavement and you two disappear together for twenty minutes."

"I made the mistake of needing the toilets," Pixie says.

"Oh my god," Harry says, more glad than ever that he's reached the bottom of his drink. "I'm leaving."

He follows up on his threat, but only as far as the open bar, where he gets a refill for himself, as well as a fresh gin and tonic for Nick, waiting until there's a song going to step into the booth itself and hand it over.

"You are a saint, Styles," Nick says. "I could kiss you."

"You could do," Harry says. "We'd give our publicist fits, but we're not far off from the end anyway."

Nick rocks back on his heels and takes a sip of his drink, leaving Harry to break out in goosepimples from the rush of warm air against his chilled hand. He sloshes his own drink around and takes a large gulp, more than he'd planned.

"I just think we should stick to the plan, is all," Nick says. He's not coming any closer, but his smile is warm. There's a flash off to the side, and Harry knows they've been seen. They're not exactly hiding, but maybe it's best that there's a tiny bit of distance for the moment. Harry might want to throw the whole plan out the window, but he can't deny that a lot of work went into putting the structure together, and they're almost at the end anyway. Just a few more weeks.

"You're right," Harry says. He steps forward a tiny bit so that the cameras can get something softer and more intimate, a prelude to what they'll be doing soon. Nick doesn't step back, so Harry counts it as a win.

The song that's been playing hits the bridge, which is Nick's cue to get back to his work, so he does, setting his drink on the side of the decks.

Harry doesn't move away this time. He watches Nick from close up, waiting for the song to switch again so that he can pester Nick without actually messing up the set.

He leans obnoxiously on Nick's shoulder, just for the excuse to play with the hair at Nick's neck and make hims shiver.

"What do you call this?" Nick asks, still moving his hands over the decks, not missing a beat. "Go bother the girls."

"I'd rather get you all bothered," Harry says, leaning in just to be sure no one hears him. It'd be something if they did, given how loud the combination of music and conversation is at the moment.

Nick elbows him away, hitting the soft spot just below Harry's ribs. It hurts, but not enough for Harry to move far away.

"Later, alright?" Nick says. "I'm working."

"Never stopped you before," Harry says, crowding in a bit closer. "Remember that time after the Brits?"

Nick chuckles, low, the laugh shaking out of him against Harry's hand. "Dev found us that morning, love. There's a lot more people here right now."

"Your set won't last forever," Harry says.

"And we've got a room with a bed just a few miles away," Nick says. "Hold on just a bit longer."

Harry knows that it's going to be longer than that, because Nick will finish his set, but the party's not over right away, and Nick will want to enjoy some of it without working. All the same, a slow curl of anticipation starts working its way into Harry's stomach, making him hot all over.

With one last squeeze to Nick's shoulder he leaves the booth and goes back over to the group. He can't resist positioning himself where he can see Nick, though.

~*~

There's something special about the sun in California, Harry thinks. For all that it's out most of the year in LA, it hasn't lost its charm. They're between weekends at Coachella, and everyone's broken off into groups to go elsewhere for the week. Alexa and Pixie are back in Los Angeles so Pixie can do some work on her album. Nick's with Aimee and Ian off in San Diego so Ian can see giraffes, and so Aimee can lay out on the beach instead of by a pool.

Harry's spending the in-between week with Jeff, but since he's got a meeting he can't postpone, Harry's by the pool, headphones in, sunglasses on, and a drink with quickly-melting ice by his side. He's got Florence's new album playing, even though it's not released yet. She'd given it to him over the weekend, and he wants to listen to the whole thing without distractions. It's gorgeous so far, longing and hopeful and chilling in that way that only she is capable of.

By the time the album finishes, Harry has soaked up so much sun and drinks that he's feeling sun-heavy and sleepy, and doesn't even care when the music's run out. He makes no move to put something else on, just listens to the last notes echoing around his head and dozes a bit. Jeff's promised to come get him when his meeting's over, someone will be along eventually to bring him new drinks, and there's absolutely no reason Harry needs to move from this spot.

Sometime a bit later, Harry's not sure exactly how much time has passed, he's startled awake by someone talking loudly at the table behind his lounge chair.

"Thinks he's the next Sam Smith," the guy is saying. His voice echoes around the pool, making it easy for Harry to hear, even though he's still got headphones on. "Complete with a boyfriend."

"Are you signing him?" someone else asks.

"Have to. He's got a great voice. If I don't take him someone else will. Good-looking, too."

"What about the boyfriend?"

"Not as hard a sell as it used to be." The guy sounds dismissive, like it really isn't a big deal. "Hell, even Michael Sam got drafted. And he just proposed to his."

Harry smiles without opening his eyes. They're not talking about him, but maybe the fallout will be better than Laura's predicting. Just a few weeks now, really. Harry's getting a bit impatient about it.

"You hear about the Styles kid, though?" the second one asks. "Heard from a friend in London that he's about to make the big announcement."

"My daughter's convinced he's fucking one of the others."

"Nah," the guy says, laughing. "It's the other one. That DJ."

"Isn't he ten years older or something?"

"Something like that. Total famewhore, I've heard. Will do anything to get his name out. You know the type."

Harry's stomach drops, the warm laziness of the afternoon draining away, leaving him tense and shaking. He grips the chair tightly and has to fight with the queasiness in his stomach so that he can stay and hear them out. They knew, when they started, that it was going to be worse for Nick than for him, but for all that Harry's seen the way his fans react to Nick over the years, he'd never considered this. Never considered that people in the industry would be even worse. Nick is great at his job and works hard and Harry loves him for it. Everyone should.

"Must be a really good fuck if he's got that kid dangling on his hook. He could literally have his pick."

"It's been ages too. Got to him before he knew better."

"And it'll be over in six months. Maybe a year at the outside."

Harry takes off his headphones, done pretending he can't hear them. He's pretty sure they don't know he's there yet, as they just keep talking.

"He's got to be after something. What kind of man hangs around a teenager?"

"The wrong kind."

Harry's phone buzzes in his hand and he looks down to find a selfie of Nick on the beach, hair flying everywhere in the breeze. Maybe Harry should have gone with them, instead. Laura would have probably killed him for it, but it would have been better than sitting here and listening to this.

He texts back, _call me when you get in_ , not wanting to ruin Nick's beach day. Then he texts Jeff to cancel lunch as well. He needs to get out, get away from everyone right now.

Harry stands up. He's not got a lot of things down here with him, but he takes his time and makes as much noise as possible, and the conversation behind him abruptly cuts off. Harry turns to look at them, finding two men in button-down shirts, laptops open in front of them, and plates of sushi off to the side. They look every inch the Los Angeles executives that they probably are, and Harry desperately wants to get their names and find someone with the power to put them out of a job in music forever.

Instead, he levels a glare at them as he passes feeling somewhat satisfied that they're wearing identical shocked faces. He watches one of them frown at him before heading straight for his room. It's past dinner back home, but Harry doesn't even hesitate before calling Laura.

"You knew, didn't you?" he says when she answers. "You knew what people were going to say about Nick."

"Harry? What happened? You need to tell me everything so I can get control of it."

"I didn't do anything," Harry promises. "I just heard some people talking." He recounts the conversation to her, voice cracking a few times as he does. He pulls his knees up to his chest, feeling about ten inches tall for having missed all of this. "You knew this would happen."

"I thought you'd talked about it with him before you decided," Laura says, her voice gentle. "I tried to get you to do this on your own." She sounds like she's trying to be his mother, trying to make him feel better for having made the wrong choice.

But it's not the wrong choice; it never was. And certainly not for the reasons she's about to give him.

"Bullshit," Harry tells her. He unfolds his legs and stands up, pacing around the room. "Your concern was over my reputation, over the band. Not about him. You don't give a shit what people say about him. What they'd do if we were together publicly."

"Look, I thought you knew," Laura says again, sounding irritated now. Harry doesn't care. "It's been years."

Harry's face burns hot. They've only been on Laura's strictly controlled plan for a few months. "Years?" He can barely speak.

"He takes a lot of shit because of you."

Harry flashes back to his mum's words at Christmas, and feels sick. _Years_.

"I've got to go." He hangs up before she can say anything else, and heads straight for the toilet.

It would probably be less painful if he were actually sick, but instead he's just lying on the tile floor and willing Nick to call sooner. There's a few texts from Jeff asking if he's alright, but Harry ignores them and goes to call the valet to bring his car around.

SatNav says it's about a two-hour drive to San Diego; he can hold it together long enough to get there without crashing. Probably.

He drives with the top down and his hair tied back, but tiny tendrils keep escaping and tickling his neck. He checks his phone to make sure he's on the right highways every so often, but mostly leaves it face-down in the passenger seat, the way he's supposed to whilst driving. There aren't many stops on the highway to check things, anyway.

There's a growing number of unread texts from Nick, but Harry can't deal with that right now. He just needs to get himself to San Diego quickly. It'll be a lot faster if he doesn't have to pull over and deal with Nick acting like nothing's wrong.

Which he's been doing for far longer than Harry wants to think about, apparently. His grip tightens on the wheel until it's almost painful, knuckles white in the glaring desert sun.

Harry's exhausted and queasy by the time he pulls up to Nick's hotel and hands his car over to the valet. He's not got any bags with him, he realizes, but it's too late to do anything about that anyway. He can always borrow some things of Nick's.

He books his own room, a small suite overlooking the crowded beach and the ocean, but manages to get a key to Nick's room with a smile, a few signatures and a short video greeting for someone's daughter who is a _huge_ fan. Harry also makes the receptionist pinky-promise him not to post anything about this until they're all gone from the hotel.

Nick's room, across the hall from Aimee and Ian's, has a gorgeous view of the bay and the city back over the bridge, but it also has a very fluffy, white bed that looks not too much different from their bed at home. Harry's exhausted and sick over this whole thing and he's still not talked to Nick.

He strips down to his pants and climbs into the bed, replying to Jeff's invite for dinner with a quick _in San Diego, don't know when I'll be back._

The mattress isn't quite right, and the daily-washed hotel sheets don't smell anything like Nick, but the knowledge that this is where Nick's been sleeping is enough to calm Harry down a bit, and he's asleep in minutes, phone still in his hand.

~*~

The next thing Harry knows is that he's being shaken awake. His first thought is that it's an earthquake, but nothing else seems to be moving and when he blinks a few times and looks up he finds Nick sitting on the bed next to him, a soft smile on his face. Harry drops his phone onto the sheets and reaches up to draw Nick down for a kiss.

"What are you doing here?"

"Needed to see you," Harry says. Nick looks like he's expecting Harry to sit up, but instead, Harry rolls to his side, holding Nick's hand so that he lands on the bed, still in his trainers. Harry can't help but laugh, but it only takes a minute for Nick to kick his shoes off and climb under the covers for real, pulling Harry close to his chest.

"It's only been two days," Nick teases, blowing hot air over Harry's neck. He shivers and presses closer. "What's this about, then?"

"Missed you," Harry says, threading his fingers into Nick's over his stomach. He'll tell Nick what's happened, in a minute. Right now he just needs Nick here with him, to remember that he's a real person, one that Harry loves, and not a thing for awful people to be angry about.

Harry's very nearly asleep again when Nick stirs.

"I'm supposed to be meeting the others for dinner downtown. I'm just going to go see them off and then we'll order something and talk, alright?"

Harry nods, and lets Nick pull his hand away. He wants to just snuggle into the bed and wait for Nick to come back, but he crawls out and puts his jeans back on and goes to the sofa, watching boats sail up and down the bay until Nick gets back. Nick ends up ordering dinner for himself, as Harry's stomach is still tied up in knots too much to eat, and they curl up on the sofa to wait, Harry's head in Nick's lap, Nick's hand in his now-loose hair.

Nick's halfway through his burger before Harry speaks. He can't look at Nick when he does it, though.

"You want to be doing this, right? Us, I mean. Everything." Harry knows he's not being terribly clear, but Nick's had enough practice reading him that he likely knows what Harry's trying to say.

"What?" Nicks first reaction to hard questions is always to try to deflect. Harry waits him out. "Of course I do."

Harry turns to look at him. "Nick. Just tell me."

A frown crosses Nick's face, momentarily gloomy in the fading light from the windows.

"You want it," Nick says, slowly. "And I want it for you."

"So you don't." Harry's chest is slowly squeezing the life of of him; his heart is racing and his vision is blurring as his eyes start to water. He stands up to go look out the window because he can't sit still anymore. The sunset is gorgeous, but he doesn't even notice.

Nick comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Harry, but it almost feels like it's happening to someone else.

"Fuck, Harry, that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

"You were hurting. I never want that."

"So you throw yourself to the wolves, is that it?"

"What happened, Haz?"

They don't move from the window as Harry trips over his words, trying to get the ugly, awful things he'd heard out without losing it completely. "I never knew it was that bad for you. I never would have pushed you into this."

"You didn't —"

"Yes, I did," Harry says. He's been replaying every bit of their conversations for the last few months, remembering each time Nick had paused before answering, their conversation in the fucking toilets at Hackford Jones. He turns so he can hold Nick, too. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I had no idea. Has it always been this awful? Laura said it's been years."

"There's been people saying all sorts about me for ages," Nick says. "Before you even came along."

"Comes with the territory, I know," Harry says. "But, like, the things I heard earlier. That's normal for you, isn't it?"

Nick shrugs, and Harry pulls back to look at him.

"This doesn't change anything," Nick says. "I want to do this for you."

Harry kisses him, slow and deep, needing Nick to know just how much he loves him.

"I want to do this for _us_ ," Harry says. "It's not for the both of us if you get hurt."

"And it hurts you if we don't," Nick says.

"We're going in circles." Harry nuzzles into Nick's neck. "And your tea's gone cold."

Nick's stomach rumbles, and Harry laughs. It's short and small, right into Nick's skin. Nothing's fixed, and probably won't be for a while, but Harry's breathing a bit easier now that he's got Nick here and can reassure himself about it as much as he needs. It's a lot, right now.

~*~

Harry stays the night, and they end up ordering a second dinner in the middle of the night when Harry gets hungry.

Once they've left the trays in the hall to be picked up, Harry curls into Nick and tangles their legs together and playing with the hair on Nick's chest. "This is still good, yeah? We're alright?"

Nick cups the back of Harry's head and pulls him in. "Of course we are."

~*~

They end up just going back to LA eventually, skipping the second weekend. They've seen all the shows they wanted to anyway. Harry calls his hotel to have his things sent back to his house. Nick's not working the second weekend at Coachella, so there's nothing to keep them from just staying where they are: lying out on the beach with Aimee and Ian, wandering around the few tiny stores and restaurants near the hotel. Harry's stopped for pictures a few times, but it's a pretty quiet day overall.

When Ian comes back from a run to say that there's a few paps outside, they know it's time to go.

They haven't talked about what they're going to do now, and the only thing Harry knows is that when they get to his house in LA, it doesn't feel right. So they book tickets home.

~*~

Harry waits silently whilst Ed strums out the last chord on the guitar and the music fades out. He waits until Ed hits the button to stop their recording, and then they both cheer.

"That was amazing, mate," Harry says. They've been working on the song all day, but somewhere in the last half hour it had snapped into place. It's Harry's favourite thing about writing, that moment when you suddenly have a finished song in your hands. The lyric sheet he's holding is crumpled and bent and scribbled, so he pulls up a blank page and begins copying them neatly whilst Ed works on the computer. "Send me a copy?"

"Yeah, sure," Ed says. He's done with whatever he does with his demo files before Harry's done copying out the words and the chord notations. "Want a beer?"

"Sure," Harry says. He looks at his phone, and it's just after five. He's meant to be going to a thing with Nick tonight, part of the carefully scheduled plan. Laura's tipped off a few reporters and photographers that they'll be there together, but it doesn't start until eight, so he reckons he's got time for one beer.

A text comes in, vibrating his phone against the table. It's from Nick. They've been home from California for nearly two weeks, and they still haven't really talked about what happened there, or what's going to happen next, here in London. Their house has been taken over by workmen during the day, the lot of them spoiling Pig rotten with bits of sandwich and leaving no space for private conversation when Nick is home. And in the evenings, there's usually someone over. Just because they have a new house doesn't mean Nick's life has changed all that much. He still does the radio at ungodly hours and he still needs people more than air.

It's sort of terrible because they do need to talk, but Harry doesn't know how to put anything into words, so he's let Nick just sweep him up the stairs and into their bedroom at ridiculously early hours, losing the rest of the evening wrapped up in each other. It's an odd sort of honeymoon, and Harry doesn't think he likes it.

_How's it going with Ed?_ Nick asks.

_Really good. Just finished a song. Having a quick drink._

_Don't forget the dinner tonight._

Harry hasn't. He's got about ten reminders from Laura about it too, and it's metaphorically circled in red in his calendar. It would actually be circled if he had one other than in his phone.

Ed comes back in with four beers, and hands two of them over.

"To my next big single," Ed says, his mouth quirked up at the corner.

"I think I want it," Harry says. "I'm going solo any day now, haven't you heard? I'll need a good first record."

They're both grinning, though, and they clink their bottles together.

Harry checks the clock after he finishes his first beer, and it's only been ten minutes, so he starts on the next one. He's got plenty of time.

"Let's go out," Ed says, sometime later. They've had a few more beers and Ed's got a guitar in his hands again, though he's not doing much except picking out random chords. "There's a pub near here does great chips."

"Could murder some chips," Harry says. The beer is spreading through him, making him warm and sluggish. He looks at his phone and there's a few messages from Nick. Harry can't be bothered to read them, so he calls instead.

"Hiya," Nick says. "You on your way?"

"Still at Ed's," Harry gets out. His esses are a bit off. "Ssss."

"Are you hissing at me?" Nick's laughing at least, so he's not cross yet. Well, probably a little. Harry's well past when he was supposed to be on his way back.

"My esses are weird," Harry explains, drawing out the sound of the letter.

"You're pissed," Nick says.

"Yessssss!" Harry agrees. "Sort of. Just had a few beers."

"You coming home anytime soon? We're supposed to be there at eight, though we can probably push that back a bit and no one will care."

"Can't I just meet you there?"

"We're supposed to be going together, Hazza. That's the whole point." Nick's voice is soft, but there's something sharp creeping in. He breaks it himself, before he gets too far, and Harry is grateful for that much. "Besides, I saw what you were wearing before you left. You can't turn up like that. Not tonight, it's a launch party."

Harry looks down at his ripped jeans, scuffed boots and holey t-shirt. "I'll figure something out." He won't fit into any of Ed's shirts, but he's resourceful.

"So," Ed says. He's not having a problem speaking. Unfair. "Pub?"

"Pub," Harry agrees, grabbing his jumper.

They end up at a table in a dark corner of the garden, the city swirling around them somewhere behind the fence. It's almost peaceful. Or would be, except for the way his phone keeps buzzing. Harry doesn't read the messages as they come in, feeling more and more guilty each time his phone goes off. Laura has said so many times that they could back out at any time. The only thing he wants more than to go out in public with Nick is for Nick not to be hurt. He can do that. Make everything stop. Make the press back off, at least.

"You alright?" Ed says around a mouthful of chips.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Harry says. He's conveniently halfway through chewing a chip himself as he says it. He washes it down with his pint and debates getting up for another one. Or maybe something stronger.

"No really, you keep checking your phone."

Harry's addicted to his phone, and Ed knows that, but Harry's just glancing at the notifications and time and putting it down again, and not actually doing anything with it.

"Was supposed to go to a thing with Nick tonight." Harry shrugs. "Not a big deal." He really should text Nick.

"Everything okay? With the two of you?" Ed finishes his pint and reaches for one of the last chips, dragging it through a puddle of vinegar on the plate.

"Yeah, good. We're fine." And they _are_. Harry loves Nick just as much as always. More, now that he knows more about what Nick's been going through whilst he's gone.

"Not getting cold feet?"

"No," Harry says. That might be a lie. Maybe he should have listened to Laura more in the beginning, though. Done more to protect Nick. "I just never get to see you, that’s all. You're always gone."

Ed snorts. "Please, Styles."

"Like ships crossing in the night," Harry says, smiling.

~*~

The house is still and quiet by the time Harry gets home. It's also very, very late. Much later than he'd planned, when he'd watched the clock tick over past eight, half eight, nine, not leaving for the launch.

Harry stumbles in the entry, probably way too loud, and has to hope that the bedroom is far enough above that he's not woken Nick, who still has to get up in the middle of the night and work. He'll be stroppy enough without Harry waking him up, too.

Pig meets him on the first floor landing, wagging her tail and smiling at him until he kneels down and lets her lick his face for a minute. He talks to her quietly until she yawns in his face and turns to go back to her bed.

Harry stops in the first floor toilet for a piss, blinking and shielding his face against the light as he does. There's a fully set-up guest room on this floor, one of the first rooms they'd made sure to get into working order, and Harry's contemplating just passing out there instead of climbing the last set of stairs to their bedroom.

But even though he knows Nick's going to be cross with him, he needs to feel Nick under his fingers. He leaves his dirty clothes in the basket by the shower and climbs the stairs naked. Pig's curled back in her bed in the corner and he gives her one more scratch on her ears before climbing up into the bed and slipping under the covers.

Nick doesn't move, but his shoulders are tense when Harry reaches out to touch him, which means he's awake. Harry shifts so that he's pressed up against Nick's back, breathing into his neck.

"Hi," he says.

Nick doesn't move, and something hot pricks at the corner of Harry's eyes. He's halfway between completely pissed and hungover, and he knows he's been a shit tonight. He probably deserves this, but at the same it's wrenching his heart that Nick isn't even saying hello.

Harry presses closer, sliding a knee up behind Nick's, and looping his arm around Nick's stomach. Nick smells like smoke, stronger than usual and Harry closes his eyes, groping for Nick's hand in the dark.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispers, kissing the knob of Nick's spine. "I'm sorry about everything." Sorry about missing the dinner tonight, sorry about pressuring him into such a harsh spotlight over something they've kept so private for so long, sorry for what everyone else has said about him.

Nick relaxes a tiny bit and squeezes Harry's hand, and then that's the last thing Harry remembers.

~*~

Harry wakes up earlier than he'd like because his phone is ringing, vibrating against the bedside table nonstop. Nick's gone, but that's expected given that it's a weekday. Harry doesn't manage to get to his phone before the call goes to voicemail, but when he looks at the lockscreen there's probably one hundred new messages, half from Laura, spread between voicemail, email and text.

Harry goes to the emails first, as the texts mostly look like variations of _Where the hell are you? Answer your phone._

His head hurts and he has to squint to concentrate enough to read the text, but he opens the most recent email and finds more yelling, and a list of links.

_What the hell were you thinking, Harry? Going out and getting drunk with Ed Sheeran was not on your schedule from last night. Dinner and a red carpet with Nick was. People were expecting you to show up and you blew everything off. Sugarscape is leading the publicity, and they're hinting at a breakup._

_If you're having second thoughts, you need to tell me now so that I can mitigate the damage._

Harry clicks the link, and finds the headline, a few pictures of Nick from the dinner, and a few blurry and far away shots of them from California. Harry aches; it was only two weeks ago. He feels like he's been torn inside out since then.

> _**Trouble in Paradise?**_
> 
> _It seems like it was only last week that our Hazza and Grimmers were wandering around sunny California all but hand-in-hand. But the (second? third?) honeymoon seems to be over now. Grimmy turned up at the_ Vintage London _launch alone last night, after a source told us that Harry was supposed to be on the red carpet, too._
> 
> _"Grimmy was in a mood all evening," an insider told us. "Stuck close to his friends and didn't smile much." Can't say we blame him; our insider also told us they were supposed to arrive together._
> 
> _We can't say we see it in the pictures, but then again Grim is exceptionally good at that smoulder he's been giving the cameras lately._
> 
> _Meanwhile, Harry was spotted at a pub with Ed Sheeran and a plate of chips, and according to the source, Harry was frowning at his phone a lot all night._
> 
> _Did they have a falling-out? Is the Gryles honeymoon well and truly over after three years? We certainly hope not. We know a good thing when we see it._

When he clicks into his texts, there's nothing new from Nick, just a string of unanswered texts from last night. Harry feels sick. And not just because of his hangover.

He turns on the radio as he makes his tea and some toast, and on air Nick _sounds_ perfectly normal, maybe a bit rough, but he is a professional and wouldn't let anything happening at home affect the show.

Outside it's a bit chilly still, but Harry's got a jumper on and the sun's out, and Pig's quite happy sniffing around the edges of the fences and getting mud all over her nose. The garden's a bit messy, weeds growing in around the corners of the flower beds, but Harry's looking forward to weekends as it gets warmer, so that they can put it together the way they've talked about. Make every inch of this house _theirs_. It's a metaphor for something, Harry's sure. He'd write it down if his notebook wasn't in his bag upstairs.

He's in the middle of debating whether or not he wants to go on twitter when a text from Liam comes through.

_Hey mate, sorrrry to hear things with nick arnt good. know u have ur house but u can come here if u dont want to be alone._

Harry nearly flings his phone to the other side of the garden. He and Nick are _fine_. And Liam should know better than to believe what's on the fucking internet anyway.

He texts back a quick _we're fine but thanks mate_ , and opens up his email to look at the rest of the press Laura's sent over. Last night was supposed to be the test run, to see if the more subtle work they've been doing leads to both the right conclusions and the right reactions, and he'd fucked it up by standing Nick up. Every single article is all but saying flat-out that they've broken up: their friendship is on the rocks, they've had a fight, the bromance is over after three years.

Apparently, Harry's told someone that Nick is really starting to annoy him, and that he's just now starting to realize how Nick's been using him this whole time. He _does_ throw his phone at that, and watches Pig skip over to sniff at it, before turning back to her path along the edge of the garden. He can't leave it there for long, though, much as he might want to.

He texts his mum a few minutes later, _Can I come up for a few days? Is that alright?_ and goes upstairs to pack a bag. It's Wednesday, and he's got nothing in his diary that can't be cancelled or postponed until after Tuesday, when band rehearsals for Europe and America start again.

He walks Pig, and gives her a kiss on the nose before leaving, and waits until the show's over to text Nick that he'll be gone for a few days and that he shouldn't worry.

~*~

When he gets to Holmes Chapel, he finds his mum at the kitchen table with a few magazines and a cup of tea. She stands and hugs him tightly when she sees him there, and Harry lets some of the tension from the last few weeks bleed out. This house is one of the few places left where he doesn't have to be Harry Styles off One Direction. This sleepy little village used to feel claustrophobic, but now it's pleasantly quiet and soft. It's home.

"What's wrong, love?" Anne asks, once Harry's settled with a cup of tea of his own. "I know it can't be what the papers were saying."

"It's not. But it is?" The headlines are the evidence of the mess he's made, but they're not the core of the problem. "We're not breaking up, I don't think. We're not even really fighting. I just haven't talked to Nick since last night."

Anne squeezes his shoulder. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

So Harry does. It takes two cups of tea, half a packet of chocolate biscuits and a small pile of used and soggy tissues before he's done.

"He's right to be angry at me, I know I was shit last night. Laura's been yelling at me all morning, and Liam offered to let me stay at his so I wouldn't be alone after I leave Nick. I just don't know what to do."

"You should probably start by talking to your partner," Anne says.

Harry sighs and slumps over the table. There's a tiny bit of tea left in the bottom of his mug, and he debates the merits of going after a tiny, cold sip over making a fresh cup. He chooses the latter, and scoops up his mum's mug as well, rinsing them out after he's filled the kettle and set it to boil.

"How do I tell him that I'm not sure I want to do this anymore?" Harry asks. He's maybe not quite there in reality, but it's one of the things he needs to figure out before he goes back.

"Like that, I imagine," Anne says. "He's an adult, sweetheart. You've got to talk about things."

"Nick _hates_ real talk," Harry says with a small laugh. "Like pulling teeth sometimes."

"So, pull them."

"He didn't even want to do this in the first place, but he did anyway and it's all gone wrong."

"He did, I'm sure," Anne says.

Harry pours the hot water for yet another cup of tea and uses a spoon to slosh the bags around a bit, watching the water grow darker. It's a bit like meditating, he thinks. It's definitely calming.

"No," Harry says. He pours milk into his cup and cuts a slice of lemon for his mum before bringing them both back to the table. "I thought he was agreeing, but he was only going through with it because I wanted to."

"Why is that a bad thing? He loves you and he wanted to make you happy."

"Because I love him too. And I don't want him to get hurt. He let me push for something that's been awful for him." Harry takes a sip of his tea, which is now the perfect temperature. It warms him through as he swallows it down, and he calms a bit. "I never knew it was this bad. He never told me."

Harry's phone rings, he flips it over from where it's been face-down on the table since he got home and sees Nick's picture on the display. It's a selfie he'd sent on Valentine’s Day, and he's pulling a stupid face, bored whilst waiting at home for a delivery. Harry had been moments from going on stage when it came through, waiting until the last possible minute to tuck his phone away.

His mum clearly sees it, too. "I can go upstairs if you want some privacy," she says.

Harry just watches as the phone rings out. A text comes through a minute later.

_Just wanted to be sure you haven't died in a horrible crash. I'd miss your face too much. Call me when you can. Love you._

Nick's voice is so clear in Harry's head: trying to make a joke of it, but worried underneath. Something squeezes at his chest, and he has to close his eyes for a minute. Is Nick home? Or is he dashing between meetings and radio recordings. Maybe he's gone out for a pint with Collette and Michael. Slowly, he types out a response, careful with his words.

_I'm fine. At mum's. She says hi._ She hasn't, but she would've if he'd picked up the call. _Just needed to get out of London for a few days. Home soon. Love you._

Harry stares at his phone for a few more minutes, but no response comes, so he clicks off the display and turns it face down on the table again.

"What do you fancy for tea, then? There's some leftover pasta and salad but we can always run to the shop and pick something up."

~*~

It's weird, not talking to Nick when they're both in the same country, not talking to Nick at all, but Harry doesn't even have his own thoughts sorted yet, so he doesn't want to call Nick and risk doing more damage by having a conversation when they're not in the same space, where he can't see Nick's face, can't physically tie them together as they go through it.

Laura, however, has no such problem, and she calls just as Harry's sitting down to breakfast on Friday morning.

"What the fuck are you doing in Holmes Chapel?"

"Good morning," Harry says. He's well used to the way she cuts right to the problems, but he's barely awake and hasn't even had a full cup of tea yet.

"You took pictures with fans yesterday. In Holmes Chapel. Have you _seen_ the headlines this morning?"

"Just send it to me," Harry says. He doesn't want to have to go find it himself. He's been off Twitter and Instagram since he left London.

"If you're backing out, I really need to know." She sounds irritated, and Harry can't really blame her. "I can call around and find a girl for you to be seen with if I need to, but I need to know soon and the longer you wait the harder it's going to be to get everything back under control."

"I don't know," Harry says. "I haven't talked to Nick yet. I'm going back tomorrow, probably. I'll call you on Monday."

"Harry—"

"Monday," he says, and hangs up. Surely she can find some way to control the publicity until then.

The article from _The Daily Mail_ is awful.

_"Harry's really broken up about it," a source close to his family told us. "He's considered Grimmy one of his closest friends and confidants for years now, but he's only just realized that it didn't go both ways. He just needed to get away from London for a bit. He's leaning on his family a lot right now."_

"You shouldn't read that shit," Anne says, coming up behind him and kissing the top of his head.

"Mum!" Harry says, both because she's surprised him, and because she's swearing. Not that Harry wasn't thinking the same things.

"What's it say, then?"

Harry passes the phone over and goes back to eating his scramble.

"What is this supposed to mean, 'The lads have been warning him for years but he was too infatuated to listen.' Who writes this rubbish?"

"Tea?" Harry offers. He can't sit still whilst his mum reads through it.

She nods without looking up, so Harry fills the kettle and sets it to boil.

"This is what you were talking about at Christmas, isn't it? You knew it would be worse for him."

"You don't see most of his interviews, do you?" Anne asks gently.

"Sometimes? There's not as much as there is about us, but I know he gets his share of it. I usually see what people say on Twitter."

"The fans are one thing, but the tabloids have been keen to keep Nick connected to you for ages, as his most famous friend. A lot of them imply that he's only friends with celebrities, looking for attention. It's complete rubbish, anyone with half a brain knows that, but they were just waiting for an excuse to print something like this."

"And I gave it to them," Harry says. The kettle clicks off and Harry pours fresh tea for them both. "What do I do now?"

"Go home and talk to your partner. He loves you."

"I love him, too." Harry can't imagine having gone through the last few years without Nick. He's been nearly everywhere, but he's always got something to come home too. Someone.

"You should probably lead with that, then."

Harry gives her her tea, hugs her and takes his phone back.

_Coming home tomorrow_ , he texts Nick. _Should be back for tea_.

Nick's reply is nearly instant. _Pig misses you. Me too._ A picture comes through a minute later of Pig, nose blurry, trying to stretch closer to get to Nick's hands and lick them, probably.

_Miss her too,_ Harry sends. _Will you do us that spinach pie for tomorrow?_

_Are you serious? Do you remember how long it took last time?_

_So don't be hungover tomorrow._ Harry usually doesn't use emojis, but he sends a green heart at the end. _Love you_.

Nick doesn't send anything back right away, so Harry turns to his mum. "Let me take you to dinner tonight."

"I never say no to spending time with you," She says with a smile.

~*~

When Harry arrives home, there's a few photographers at the end of the street, long lenses glinting in the sun as they follow the progress of his car around the corner and into an empty parking space. They're not allowed to wait for _him_ at their house, but he'd definitely been gone, which always means that Nick is fair game. He leaves his bags in the car for now, but at least the hedges are high enough that Harry can just let himself in without anyone seeing him do it.

Nick appears in the entryway when Harry turns back from locking the door behind him. He looks exhausted, but he's smiling, and Harry nearly trips over his own feet as he rushes forwards to hug him.

"I'm sorry," Harry says into Nick's neck.

"I know."

It's not forgiveness or reassurance, but it's something. Harry pulls back and kisses him, slowly, until Pig decides to come out and say hi too, apparently done rooting around for scraps in the kitchen. Harry kneels down to pet her, and when he looks back up at Nick he catches a soft, fond expression on his face. Harry reaches for his hand and squeezes, hoping Nick can hear what he's not saying.

"Were the paps still outside?" Nick asks, once they've got fresh cups of tea, sitting at their kitchen table, doors open to the garden in the weak spring sun.

Harry nods. "Have they been there all week?"

"A few days. Once everyone found out you were up North."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry it's so shit."

Nick shrugs. "Got papped buying spinach this morning. They followed me home."

"Just like last time," Harry says.

"Not quite." Neither of them say it but they both know that the difference is that Harry wasn't there, too.

They fall silent, drinking their tea and scratching Pig's ears when she comes inside to check on them before bounding outside again, chasing butterflies around the garden.

When they're done, they take Pig on a walk through the common at the back of the house. With everything up in the air, Harry is careful not to walk too close to Nick, but they don't run into anyone who asks for pictures. They hardly run into anyone at all, which is unusual for a sunny Saturday afternoon. It's nice, though. Maybe someday this will be normal, walking around London without being stopped or photographed or screamed at.

The sun is just starting to dip down towards the horizon when they go in. Their tea is half-made, Nick had done the spinach before Harry got home. Even so, it's another half-hour before they put it in the oven. Harry takes a picture of it on the shelf before he closes the door, and considers posting it to Instagram.

"Don't," Nick says, apparently reading his mind.

Harry wants to argue that it's just a pie, but of course he knows better. He tucks his phone into his back pocket instead, and steps over to wrap his arms around Nick.

"I know we need to talk, but can we wait? Just until tomorrow. I told Laura I'd give her an answer on Monday." Harry kisses Nick, because he can, because Nick's mouth is right there, because he loves him. "We'll have a date night, yeah?"

"I hate dates," Nick says, but kisses back, and Harry knows they'll be alright.

They end up on the sofa with the remains of a bottle of wine once they've eaten and loaded the dishwasher and scrubbed down the kitchen. It's calm and quiet and everything Harry needs to forget about the storm that's hanging over their heads and the decisions they have to make soon.

Nick pulls up the last episode of Gogglebox, and Harry curls over into his side, moving around until Nick wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close.

He wakes up sometime later to a dark room and Nick shaking his shoulder. "Come on, love, let's go to bed."

Their glasses are gone from the table, which means Nick either never fell asleep or he's been awake for a while.

"Pig?" Harry asks.

"Took her out already," Nick says. He offers his hand and Harry takes it pulling himself up and straight into Nick's arms. "It's bedtime."

Harry lets Nick lead him up the stairs. They have to stop on the first floor to clean their teeth, but then they can trip up the stairs and fall into bed.

Harry was an idiot, leaving for Holmes Chapel with no warning. Without Nick. Up there he has the bed he's had for the last ten years, the same as it ever was. The bed here is theirs, and has never been anything else.

As soon as they're both tucked in, Harry reaches for Nick, meeting him in the middle and seeking out his lips with his own. Nick sighs and slides closer, until they're on their sides inches away from each other in the dark. Nick sets a hand on Harry's hip, stroking over the bone.

"Hiya," Harry whispers, his own hand moving to cup Nick's skull and pull him in the extra few inches for a kiss. Just for tonight, probably the last night for a while, everything else can wait. There's conversations they have to have tomorrow, people they need to talk to. Tonight is just for them. An apology, for this week and all the weeks that have come before where Harry's been gone. Where he hadn't seen. Harry is willing to spend the rest of his life apologizing for that.

Harry's eyes drift shut as soon as Nick's lips touch his own, warm and soft, making their already-small world even smaller, reduced to just touch and soft sounds. Not even Pig, on her bed in the corner is part of them right now. Harry is distantly aware that his cock is thickening, an automatic response to Nick's hand being so close, but it hardly matters. All that matters is the wet slide of Nick's tongue against his own, the breathy moans Nick lets out without noticing.

This is what he's been missing, Harry thinks. Between the tour and buying a house and Laura's plan and everything from California and after, they've not had time to come back to each other. To let everything else fall away.

He rolls onto his back and tugs Nick with him, letting Nick's leg slide between his own. Harry's cock slides against Nick's thigh, and even though he's not even fully hard, the touch leaves him breathless. Everything is so much more, in this half-awake dark. He can feel every touch ricochet through him, amplified by each touch that came before.

Nick's fingers are soft, stroking Harry's skin without purpose or direction, touching just because he can. He'd once told Harry, years ago, that nothing felt real until he touched it. They'd been at a gallery, just tipsy enough to want to cause trouble by doing something they knew they shouldn't. Nick wanted to feel the paintings.

Now, Nick feels out Harry's tattoos, knowing where they are without needing to look anymore. Harry can easily imagine that his fingers have actually woken the butterfly, the way his stomach is fluttering at each stroke.

Harry whines into Nick's mouth at the first touch of Nick's fingers on his dick. It's light and fleeting, exploring, exactly like everything before. He runs a fingertip from Harrys hip, down the vee of the muscle and up the side of his cock in one continuous line and Harry's knee falls open, wanting more. His entire focus shifts from Nick's mouth to the hard line of Nick's cock against his hip, and Harry pulls him closer with a hand at his back.

Harry never opens his eyes and Nick never speeds up his lips or his hands, teasing endlessly until Harry's entire body is on fire, and he comes whilst Nick is occupied playing with his extra nipple. He breaks away from Nick's mouth and breathes into his neck, and Nick just keeps going, fingers walking over Harry's side and down each leaf on his hips until he's gently stroking Harry's cock with purpose, wringing every last wave out of him.

He floats for a while, coming back to himself as Nick thrusts against his hip, slowly but with purpose. Harry sneaks a hand between them to wrap around Nick as best as he can without much space to work with, adding pressure as Nick continues to move. He tilts his head up, offering his mouth to Nick as well, and he takes the offer. Harry rubs his thumb over the head of Nick's cock, sticky and wet, feeling Nick twitch in his hand, and then Nick is coming too. It's probably just his imagination, but Harry wants to believe he can feel Nick's orgasm as well, not as strong as his own, but a soft wave rolling through him as Nick spills over his hand.

Harry doesn't even remember cleaning them up before he's falling into the heavy pull of sleep.

~*~

Harry wakes up first in the morning, and slips on a clean pair of jeans before waking Nick up. "Going to take Pig and go get us some breakfast, alright?"

There's a bakery a few streets away, and Pig walks happily in front of him, sniffing at the edges of the pavement as they go. The photographers are gone, and this early on a Sunday there are only a few people out. Some of them smile and nod at him, but he's not stopped, except for one girl who bends down to pet Pig before realizing who is holding her leash. She — Maddie, she eventually tells him — giggles a bit before asking for a picture, and Harry takes a selfie with her before going to get their breakfast.

The bakery is busy, if not completely packed, and Harry comes away with a small box of croissants — chocolate, almond and plain — and two takeaway soy lattes. Nick is up by the time he gets home, hair wet from the shower, feet still bare.

"I was going to bring you breakfast in bed," Harry says, kissing Nick hello quickly before setting everything down and letting Pig off her leash.

Nick peeks into the box. "If you fancy getting crumbs in your arse next time we shag," he says. He takes a bite of one of the almond croissants. "Which one's mine?" he asks, pointing at the coffees.

"They're the same," Harry says. "Soy latte." Nick grabs one, and Harry takes the other, along with a chocolate croissant.

"So—"

"Yeah," Harry agrees. He peels off a layer of pastry, watching the crumbs go everywhere. Maybe Nick has a point about eating these in bed. "What now?"

"Maybe we should go back to the beginning," Nick says. "We never really talked things through."

"That's probably my fault. Definitely. Sorry." They're still standing in the kitchen, Nick leaning his hip against the counter, and Harry has to fight the urge to draw him in and kiss him senseless because they really do have to talk this out. Later, he tells himself. They'll get to that later. "Come on, let's sit somewhere more comfortable."

They settle on the sofa, Harry turned sideways, back against the armrest, legs thrown over Nick's. Nick's got a hand on Harry's knee, smoothing over the torn edges of the hole in his jeans and catching tiny bits of skin at the same time.

“Everything just happened so fast," Nick says. "You came home after months away and went straight into full press days and rehearsals, I was sick, and your team was pressing you — us — to make a decision right away."

"I didn't mean to. I talked to Laura and Niall because I wanted to see if it was possible. And then everyone kept telling me it was, and giving us options and I didn't want to back down. I'm sick of everything being so secret."

"Not true. Remember the Brits? Big weekend? You took a wee break in the middle of Scott's interview to come find me."

Nick's got a smirk on his face, and Harry can't help but laugh along. "Not what I'm talking about, you wanker." He punches Nick's shoulder. "You _know_ how much I like that."

They fall silent, and Harry swallows the almost-cold dregs of his latte.

"It wouldn't take much. To go back, I mean," Harry says, not looking at Nick. "I spoke to Laura the other day. She said she could set something up. Introduce me to someone, get pictures out."

"Is that what you want?" Nick is speaking quietly, and there's a waver in his voice. When Harry looks up, Nick isn't looking back.

"You never told me what _you_ want," Harry says, "and I never noticed."

"This is enough for me," Nick says. He waves his arm around vaguely. Harry looks around the room, at the pictures and art hanging on the wall, things they've both brought home over the years.

Harry frowns. "Nick. Don't just tell me you're fine with things. We're okay, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do. Don't be an idiot."

"I'm sorry I didn't see things from your side in the beginning. I didn't know — didn't know how awful things were." Harry sucks in a breath and holds it for a minute. "I'd understand if you wanted to go back to the way things were. We still have our house, and I'll still be here when I can. Nothing has to change if you don't want it to."

"I do, though," Nick says after a long pause. He takes Harry's hand in his and laces their fingers together.

"Don't just say what you think I want to hear. Please don't do that again."

"I didn't," Nick argues. Harry frowns at him. "Maybe a little bit, but just talking about going public was making you so happy, and I wanted that for you. Even with everything else."

"And now?"

"It's been nice, yeah? These last few months. Good."

"I've been on tour for most of it."

Nick flicks Harry's knee with his free hand. "I can talk about you as my boyfriend, even if I can't name you yet. We bought a house and moved in. It'll be tough for a while still, but I get to show you off, too." Nick's face is soft, lips quirked up in a smile, and Harry has to lean forward and kiss him. "You know how much I like that."

"Yeah?" Harry says. He's still holding Nick's hand, running his thumb over the silver band he'd given Nick for Christmas. Something's shouting in the back of his mind, telling him that Nick's wearing it on the wrong finger, the wrong hand entirely, but that's not for today. One step at a time.

Nick laughs. "Maybe I changed my mind about why I wanted to do this."

Harry can't stop smiling long enough to properly kiss his boyfriend, so he settles for wrapping Nick in as tight a hug as he can manage, burying his face in the crook of Nick's neck.

~*~

Laura calls at exactly nine on Monday morning. Harry had hoped that he'd be able to delay until Nick got home after the show, but he should have known better, really. As it is, he has to turn off the radio so he can hear.

"Your car's been parked at Nick's house for two days," Laura says.

"Our house," Harry says. "We bought it together. You know that."

"It's his name on the papers. It's his according to the press. Tell me you have an answer, then. There's pictures of you arriving on Saturday."

"Yes."

"What is it?"

" _Yes_ ," Harry says. "We're doing it."

"Are you sure? I can't have you pull another stunt like you did last week." Her voice is short, irritated. Harry probably deserves that.

"Yes, we're sure. We talked it over yesterday and cleared things up. I was going to wait until he got home so we could phone you together, you know."

"You need to come to the office. Both of you."

"Alright. I'll find out when he's free."

"Today. I'll stay after hours if I have to, but last week's made things a bit hectic so we need to put everything back in place as soon as possible."

"Sure," Harry says. "I'll call you later." He hangs up and turns the radio back on, just in time for the Showquizness music to start.

~*~

**May, 2015**

Harry is in rehearsals all day Tuesday, but he can barely concentrate on anything. Nick's been texting a lot, checking in on him, which is fair, given the disaster that was the last time they were supposed to do this. Harry's not backing out this time. He may be worse than Louis today, according to Liam, but he's got a good excuse and they all know it.

Nick's waiting when he gets home, sat in the kitchen with his laptop and a carton of coconut water. He pretends not to notice Harry, focusing intently on his computer, but when Harry comes up behind him he finds that there's nothing on the screen.

"I'm here," Harry says, hugging Nick from behind. Something squeezes in his chest, and he clutches extra hard at Nick to compensate for it and not fly apart. "Not going anywhere tonight."

"Yeah, we are," Nick says. He can be extremely annoying when he wants. He just usually doesn't do it to Harry — saves all of it for the radio. "That's the entire point."

"You know what I mean," Harry says, biting at Nick's neck.

"Careful," Nick says. "No marks until later." He's tilting his head, though, giving Harry more access to his skin.

"What time is the car coming?" Harry hasn't let up, but he's not biting hard, just nibbling a bit, tasting Nick and letting out some of the nerves that are fluttering up as they get closer to the end.

"An hour or so," Nick says.

"Plenty of time." Harry stands up straight and grabs for Nick's hands to pull him up as well, but he stays stubbornly where he is.

"Not tonight," Nick says. "You're going to shower and get dressed and be ready to go when the car comes. I'm not having a repeat of your birthday dinner." Nick reaches out for Harry, drawing him down for a proper kiss, slow and easy. "Besides, I've already had my hair done."

"Mmmmmhmmmm," Harry hums. He sinks to his knees because it's a better angle for continuing to kiss his boyfriend, but when he sets his hands on Nick's thighs, he gets pushed off.

"Enough from you. Go. You smell."

They hadn't really done all that much running around during rehearsals, but since there's going to be a lot of pictures tonight, Harry does want to look good. He only wishes he'd been able to get home sooner, because maybe then he'd have got to shower _with_ Nick.

~*~

The closer they get to the Edition Hotel, the more jittery Harry gets. He can't stop shaking his knee, even after Nick lays a hand on his thigh — rather higher up than is appropriate, especially when Harry can't do much about it. Or anything, really. Their car has blacked-out windows, but the driver's right there without a partition between them, and Harry would rather not look like he's just come when they get his picture tonight.

The shots they'd taken before getting in the car aren't helping anything either. It's just making the world feel a little bit less real.

When they're about a couple of streets away, Nick leans over and kisses Harry, hard and fast, leaving Harry a bit breathless. He wonders if it will show, if his lips will be darker than usual.

Tonight is the exact opposite of the last time they'd been here, when they'd climbed into a cab together and Nick had immediately lost his shoes, unable to keep them on as drunk as he was. There had been giggly, half-drunk handjobs, and then a few hours of napping, when they'd got back to Nick's flat that day, once they were out of view of the horde of paps.

There's another horde tonight, and the flashes start going as soon as the door opens. Nick's on the right, closest to the pavement, so he goes first, with one last soft squeeze to Harry's knee. He stops just short of grabbing Nick's hand to pull himself out of the car after him. When he makes it out, Nick's waiting for him with a soft smile on his face, which Harry can't help but match.

They stop for pictures at the backdrop, and then disappear into the hotel lobby, the noise of the crowd fading as the doors close behind them. Nick gets a hand on Harry's back, soft pressure through his jacket, and it brings Harry back down a bit.

"You alright?" Nick asks.

It's such a standard question, and no one ever responds with real answers. It's a greeting more than an actual inquiry, but Harry answers it anyway.

"I think so? I'm so happy we're doing this, but— " Harry trails off for a minute, thinking. "It's just — that first year, during X Factor and everything, they spent so much time telling us how we should act and this was never part of it. Especially for America."

"Are you still worried about that?" There's a small frown line appearing between Nick's brows. Harry pokes it until Nick smiles again.

"Some. The lads are alright with it, the label and everyone says they're fine with it, but I think everyone's still worried. They're just not saying it to me."

"Well, you can always come in and take over Ian's job if this popstar thing doesn't work out," Nick says, pulling Harry close. There are people around them in the lobby, but they're not photographers, and no one's looking at them at the moment, he doesn't think.

"Don't think I could do the earlies," Harry says, smiling.

~*~

The next morning, Harry sleeps straight through Nick's alarms, and only wakes up when Pig jumps up to wake him because she wants to go out. He takes her out the back through the common, and uses the time whilst she slowly makes her way around to every tree on the path to check his email.

He's got an email full of links off Laura, sorted for him, so he only has to really look at a few. Sugarscape's taken the opportunity to go through the _Greatest Bromantic Gryles Moments_ , and Harry smiles going through the pictures from the last three years. He's got so many more on his phone and computer and cameras, ones that exist just between them, but he saves one of the ones from last night anyway.

In it, he's just straightening up out of the car. There's people all around them, but Nick's standing and waiting for him with that smile on his face, Harry's favorite. Yeah, he thinks. Yeah, we can do this.

~*~

Harry has done more photoshoots than he can remember at this point, but this is the first one he's ever done in his own home. He wanders around fussing with picture frames to make sure everything is straight and neat before their photographer arrives. Pig is following him through the house, but Nick is sat on the sofa with his laptop, laughing.

"Stop it," Harry says, passing through to adjust the butterfly frame.

Nick grabs his hand and pulls him to the sofa before he can reach it though.

"It's just a photoshoot," Nick says. He flicks on the _enjoy_ sign, sitting on the mantle, bathing the entire room in soft blue light. "People take your picture _every day_."

"Not in our home they don't."

"My phone says otherwise," Nick teases.

"You don't count."

"Nice of you to say."

Harry hits him, but softly. "You know what I mean." He's just pulling Nick back in for a kiss when the doorbell rings. Lou and Caroline are at the door, Lou with her usual large box, and Caroline carrying two garment bags. Harry takes the bags from her and twists out of the way to let them in, giving each of them a kiss on the cheek as they pass.

Matt Irwin arrives not long after and wanders around the house with a light gauge, taking measurements and making notes in his phone. Nick shows him around whilst Harry has his hair cut in the garden, Lou tossing clipped bits into the grass for birds.

He can't stop his leg from bouncing, his hands from twisting his phone around and around in his hand.

Lou digs her fingers in and scratches her nails over his scalp in the way she knows he likes best. He slumps down a bit in his chair.

"You nervous, love?"

"It's just photos," Harry says. And it is, for today. There's no one in their house that they don't know, who doesn't know _them_. It's just that doing the shoot today means there's a reporter coming tomorrow. Gellz had nearly laughed them out of her flat when they'd asked her to do it. She'd ended up splitting a full bottle of wine between three large glasses at once and telling them that it was some breach of journalistic ethics. After a massive glass of wine that was more like three, she'd told them that she didn't "want to be tied to you two knobs for the rest of my career." She'd sent them a few names of people she knew who would be up for the job the next day. Still, though, it's someone new. Someone they've never met before.

"I've done hundreds of photos." He is incredibly terrible at talking himself down. He needs Nick, but Nick's inside with Matt.

Lou needs to finish with his hair.

When he goes back in, he finds everyone in the guest room on the first floor and clothes hanging in the empty wardrobe.

"I bought a few pieces for you," she's telling Nick. "But if they don't work we can find some things of yours. Laura said she wanted formal, semi-formal and casual options."

They end up spending hours taking pictures. Multiple outfits, angles, lighting on the terrace, in the kitchen, the living room. Matt lets them review the shots when he's done, and Harry's eye catches on one of the ones they'd taken on the sofa. Harry's lying down, head pillowed in Nick's lap, one knee up, hands folded on his stomach. Nick's got an arm around Pig on his other side, the other over the back of the sofa above Harry. Neither of them is looking at the camera. Instead, they're looking at each other, faces half-hidden due to the angle of the shot.

Harry can't resist touching a finger to the screen. It feels like home. For all that Harry knows there are people behind the camera, it looks like they're completely alone, having a chat at the end of the day. He asks Matt to send him a copy. They're meeting in a few days to go over the best shots and pick which ones to send, and Harry's already torn between wanting to show this to the world and wanting to keep such an intimate moment for themselves.

~*~

They go for dinner at Soho House, getting a table in the back where they don't have to pay as much attention to how close they sit. They'd been to the Topman dinner earlier this week, and a few carefully worded quotes from "sources" had shaped the headlines, repairing the damage from earlier, but it's not quite time for the big reveal. Soon, though. Less than a week. Harry's heart flutters somewhere near his throat and he chokes on air.

"You alright?" Nick smooths a hand down his back, rubbing gently.

"It's tomorrow," Harry says. There's a constant countdown in his head these days, the list of things they have to do _before_ dwindling down to nothing.

"Tomorrow," Nick agrees.

~*~

Harry sleeps fitfully, waking up several times with odd, swirling half-formed images crowding his head. It shouldn't be this difficult — he's the one who had asked for this, who had wanted to go public. He doesn't think he'd been this nervous since that time, years ago now, when he'd come home from his first shopping trip with Nick and had badly explained to his mum how he'd been feeling.

He'd been so scared, not of what she would say, but of what could happen. They'd spent hours and hours and hours in media training by then, more than a year after X Factor had started, each new management representative addressing the issue of sex and relationships by stepping delicately around the real issues with words like _discretion_ and _image_ and _family entertainment_. Harry remembers one meeting fairly early on when Louis had spent the entire time clutching Liam's forearm and doodling dicks all over him in permanent marker.

After Nick appeared in Harry's life, the admonition about maintaining a family image had been fairly firmly directed at Harry alone.

Jennifer, the journalist Gellz had introduced Nick to, is due at eleven, and Harry's planning on making her lunch. It's maybe a bit unfair to spring things on her like this, as she thinks she's just coming to interview Nick about his new line for Topman, but an announcement like this always gets people talking, and they'd wanted to keep it quiet as long as possible. As it is, she's getting very little time to write her story.

It takes a good minute for her to speak once she arrives, a minute of Harry standing stupidly in his kitchen, Nick's hand in his, unable to say anything either. Nick gets her a chair, and Harry shakes himself awake enough to pour tea and get milk and sugar.

"I can't believe this," she says. "I'd heard the rumors, but I never thought — I have absolutely no idea what to ask either of you."

"The rumors are mostly true," Nick says. "Well, except for the ones about Haz here dying."

"Those too," Harry says, getting his voice back. There's still a pit of nerves in his stomach, but it's easing a bit. "I died a few years ago. Car crash. Very bloody."

Jennifer pulls an audio recorder out of her bag and sets it on the table in front of them. "Well, all my prepared questions are moot now. Is it alright if we just chat a bit, then?"

It takes about ten minutes for her to get around to asking the big questions. "Harry, you've had some very high-profile relationships in the last four years. Caroline Flack, Taylor Swift, Kendall Jenner. Was all of it fake?"

Nick laughs. "No beating around the bush, then." Harry squeezes his hand.

They've talked about how to handle this particular answer a lot, but Harry still needs a moment to collect his words. "It's not been totally easy, me and Nick," he says. "I think we both sort of knew right away, from that first day we went shopping. I did at least. I went home both overjoyed and terrified at the same time. But it wasn't — things weren't so simple. It wasn't like I could show up somewhere holding Nick's hand and expect everyone to love him. I didn't know much about the industry at the time, and when they told us that it could harm our success I listened. We had the one single out, album on the way, and things were looking so good that I didn't want to drag the other lads down with me."

"My age didn't help," Nick says. "Or my reputation."

"I really did fancy them," Harry says. "The girls, I mean. Caroline's a friend of Nick's, too, so half the time he was out with us anyway. Taylor was lovely as well. And Kendall. I met her through a friend of mine in Los Angeles. Nearly everyone else I was ever supposedly dating are friends with Nick. Alexa, Daisy, Cara, Rita. They're all friends of ours, all friends I met through Nick. All of those pictures, Nick was just out of the shot, usually."

"My friend Aimee's the only one who was never 'dating' Harry," Nick says. "She's quite proud of that."

"She's the one with the orange hair?" Jennifer asks.

"Pink now," Nick says. "She's engaged to one of my producers. Former producers. Ian's pretty happy she was never one of Harry's 'girlfriends.’"

"Going out, being seen, being seen with girls was encouraged, usually." Harry says. "Nick — we were never a solid thing. Not until recently. I didn't really call him my boyfriend until last summer. So I'd go away, and meet people I fancied. Girls I fancied. And if we hung out and got on, it usually turned into a thing."

"There were a lot of opportunities for you to be photographed with other people," Jennifer says. "Too many, according to some."

"I can't say that wasn't part of it," Harry says. "Not my favorite part, but it's the job. A big part of what we do, what I do with the band, depends on us being seen. And I had fun with them. It's just … it's hard, trying to date someone when you're in love with someone else."

"What about you?" Jennifer turns to Nick. "Did you try dating anyone else when Harry was away?"

Nick shrugs. "There's never been anywhere near as much pressure on me. I wasn't completely alone when he was gone, but that was more because I missed him than anything else. No one ever fit quite as well, though."

"And you didn't believe in love," Harry says. It's not quite a joke, but there's some teasing behind it.

"I didn't," Nick confirms. "Took me ages to realize that's why I was so miserable every time he left."

"You had Taylor Swift on your show recently," Jennifer says. "Was that awkward at all?"

"Not really," Nick says. "I'll admit I didn't like her much right after she and Harry split, or during, but that's ages ago. Not really her fault anyway. She's a great musician and she was a lot of fun to have in the studio, especially since Ed was there too."

"Would you ever write a song with her, Harry?"

Harry shrugs. "Maybe, if she asked and we had the time for it. She's very good. I'd love to see what we could come up with."

Jennifer moves on after that. Harry talks about what it was like hiding for so long, ("We weren't always very good at it," Harry says), and about being an example and role model for other kids. ("It's a bit overwhelming, to think about that way.") They tell her about getting the rest of the band on board, and that she'll have an opportunity in a few days to come to rehearsals and speak to them as well.

"Is it true that you had a fight a few weeks ago?"

"Not exactly," Harry says. "Sort of, but it wasn't as big a deal as the headlines made out. I got a bit overwhelmed and needed to go home for a few days. Talk to my mum." They'd agreed not to actually talk about the reasons for it, about what he'd heard in California, how Harry had nearly backed out of the entire thing. "I came back a few days later, and everything's fine."

"Why now?" is Jennifer's last question.

"He wanted to show me off," Nick says. "Have a bit of arm candy."

Jennifer laughs, like it's a joke. She can be forgiven the mistake, since Nick's laughing when he says it, too.

"He's not wrong," Harry says. "I was getting a bit jealous of the lads talking about their girlfriends. Nick is such a huge part of my life that it was getting harder and harder not to say anything. I nearly cracked on camera in October. That's what started this … process. What got me thinking about actually doing this. I know there's going to be a lot of people talking about me as an example or whatever but really I just want to be able to hold my boyfriend's hand. It's that simple."

Harry can't resist leaning over to give Nick a quick, chaste kiss. It's the end of the interview, he can feel it. Jennifer clicks her recorder off, and tucks it back into her bag.

"You should stay for lunch," Harry offers, standing up. It's nearly half-twelve. "I've got things for sandwiches."

She does, and then for a walk with Pig. They get stopped a few times for pictures, and then get pastries before heading back to the house and calling a car for Jennifer.

"This was lovely," she says. "Can I call you in the week with any follow-up questions? I was not expecting this interview when I came this morning."

"Sorry about that," Harry says. "It was our publicist's idea. Call any time. Nick's more likely to be able to answer if you call after ten, since I'll be in rehearsals."

She hands them a card, and they each send a text to her number, and then her car is outside.

Once she's gone, Harry slumps over into Nick, winding his arms around Nick's neck and holding on. Nick's clinging, as well, arms looped around Harry's back, breath hot on Harry's neck.

"We did it."

~*~

When Nick wakes up for work on Monday morning, Harry doesn't go back to sleep like he usually does. Instead he joins Nick in the shower.

"You're a nutter," Nick says. "You don't have to be up now. It's the middle of the night still."

"Mmmm," Harry replies, running his hands down Nick's back. "You love a crazy popstar though, don't you?" He kisses Nick, and grinds their hips together, even though they really don't have time to do anything. Harry's just a bit excited.

Once they're done getting clean, Harry wanders downstairs in his towel to make tea for himself and a smoothie for Nick to take to the studio, since he definitely won't have time to make it himself, now. Twenty minutes later, he sees Nick off for work, kissing him in the open door. No one is around to see, but then again, it doesn't really matter anymore. Today they get to go out in public together, and the official interview is being published in a few days.

"I'll see you after the show," Harry says. Four and some hours from now seems interminably long.

"Don't forget my gym clothes, please."

"Never," Harry says. "Now go wake everyone else up."

Harry takes Pig out whilst he waits for Nick's show to start, a long-ish walk through the common at the back of the house. The sun's already up, but the light is thin and watery, and the air chilly and cool. Harry makes himself stay out of the house as long as possible as a distraction, but gets back in time to turn the radio on and hear Nick chatting to Gemma before the start of his show.

"How are we, are we good?" Nick asks the team after the first few songs are over. Harry's already on his second cup of tea, and he's shaking, he's so nervous. "Are we feeling happy on a Monday?"

"Nice, very good," Fiona says. "Because we're doing Happy Monday from half eight."

"You do seem very happy today," Matt says. "Have a good weekend, then?"

"Walked the dog, cooked a roast, had some friends over. Boring, me."

"So what's got you in this mood, then?"

"Mood? I'm not in a mood, am I Fifi?"

"A little bit," Fiona says with a laugh.

"You came in singing Paramore," Matt says.

"It's on the playlist," Nick protests. "You sent it to me last night. It's been a while since we played that."

It is on the playlist, Harry knows. But that's because Nick's requested it.

There's a flurry of indistinct noise in the studio, and then Matt's speaking again.

"No really, what is going on with you this morning?"

"Let me ask you a question. You too, Fifi. We've been doing this for what, two years? Two and a half?" The other two agree, and Nick goes on. "And you've had partners for the whole time?" More agreement. "Have your partners ever got up with you and made you breakfast?"

"Our first day, maybe?" Fiona says. "I don't remember."

"No," Finchy says. "She's not bothered."

"Mine did," Nick says. He sounds so smug, and Harry can't stop smiling. "Got up with me this morning, made me a green smoothie whilst I took a shower. Nice way to start the day."

"Awww, isn't that cute?" Fiona says.

"It won't last," Finchy says. He's right — Harry's not getting up this early every day, but today's a special occasion.

"Yeah," Nick agrees. He hits the buzzer and transitions into the next song.

Harry works around the house whilst he listens, putting dishes away, starting a wash, making the bed. He attempts to sit down and go through some emails, but he only gets as far as a list from Laura with reminders of what they should and shouldn't do today whilst they're out, along with a reminder that they'll most likely be papped at some point. After that, Harry is done sitting still, so he packs his and Nick's gym clothes into a bag and calls a car to take him to the BBC.

It's odd, walking in the public front entrance, when he's been sneaking in the back artists’ entrance for years now. He's got a box of pastries from the place near their house to share around, which should make him popular with the team, or at least win some affection back, since they probably all know that he's the reason for Nick's mood.

The new building lacks the pulley system for the mics, but Harry's not new at this; he's got four years of living with the lads on tour under his belt, and he can be very resourceful. He _will_ get Nick to break and laugh at “nothing” on air. He starts by throwing balled-up bits of paper to see if any of them will stick in Nick's hair.

It takes nearly an hour, all the way past Happy Monday and nearly to the end of Showquizness, before Harry wins. He's sitting on the bench at the back of the room, and Nick's back is to him, having switched places for the quiz. He starts texting Nick, because Nick can never manage to put his phone away. Or turn it to silent. The mics are definitely picking up the sound, if Matt's face is any indication.

Harry starts his campaign slowly, with mundane things like their shopping list, things Pig has probably chewed this morning since Harry left the house, and a countdown to the end of the show in seconds. Harry had downloaded an app just for that purpose. During the last question he escalates into purposely bad sexting. Not too explicit because it's just for fun, but Harry can tell from the shift in Nick's shoulders that he's holding in a laugh.

Two more and he breaks. Right in the middle of the caller trying to give an answer.

"Oh my god," Nick says, sucking in a huge breath. Matt glares at Harry. Harry beams back.

"So my —my friend's dropped by to see me at work today, god knows why, we're just three people sitting inside a tiny room talking to ourselves, but he's sitting at the back of the room texting me."

"Read it out," Fiona says, starting the chant. Harry joins in, even though his voice probably won't get picked up.

Matt comes around to look at the messages. "No, you can't read that out."

"Ohhh," Nick whinges, voice going high and sharp. "So sad. But we were in the middle of a quiz and I've completely forgotten the question."

Harry sits back, smug, until the game is finished and there's music again. Nick tosses his headphones aside and comes over, towering over the bench trying to be cross. The smile on his face betrays him, though, and Harry scrambles to his feet to pull Nick in for a kiss. It's not like they haven't done this in front of Finchy and Fiona and the rest of the breakfast team before now, but it feels different, better. Everything is better today.

"I've got to go for a wee," Harry whispers in Nick's ear. "How much time have you got?"

Nick bites at Harry's neck. "God, Harold, not now."

"How much time is left on the show?" Harry asks.

"Check your countdown," Nick says, shoving Harry away because Newsbeat is on weather, which means he has to talk soon.

There's a few paps outside the building as they leave, and Harry gives them a smile and a wave, something he never does anymore, and pretends not to notice the one who has separated from the pack and is following them down the street to their spin class.

It's probably the worst class Harry's ever done, because he can't clear his head or focus on anything other than Nick on the cycle next to him.

After, they walk down to Press, taking the side streets, where it's much easier to notice that they're still being followed. Harry wants to grab Nick's hand, but as big as today is, they've been warned not to in front of the paps. They want things to spread from real people who see them, not from the tabloids.

Inside, Harry takes a few pictures with fans, both alone and with Nick, and then, whilst they're in the queue to pay for their drinks, reaches down and takes Nick's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. Harry can hear someone behind them loudly whispering _oh my god_. He imagines she's scrambling for her phone to get a picture — maybe it'll be the one that spreads everywhere. He squeezes Nick's hand tighter, and turns his head to look. Sure enough, she's got her phone up and Harry smiles at her before turning to the front and bumping his shoulder into Nick's.

Harry can barely breathe.

He's out in central London, in _public_ , holding his boyfriend's hand.

"It's a dream, right?" Harry asks, once they've paid and left the shop. He's dropped Nick's hand now that they're back outside. The bag with their clothes is slung over his shoulder, cutting in and reminding him that the world exists. Nick's got their two bottles of juice in one hand. "We just did that, didn't we?"

"Probably all over Tumblr already," Nick says. There's still one photographer a few feet away, camera clicking happily as they get a taxi to pull over and climb inside. Harry grabs for Nick's hand again once they've driven a few streets away.

Laura texts him with a link to a Twitter post ten minutes later, and the profile picture is the girl who had been behind them.

_OMG JUST SAW @harry_styles AND @grimmers HOLDING HANDS RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. TOTALLY FROZE BEFORE I COULD ASK FOR A PICTURE._

She's attached two pictures, one of their backs, hands centered and in focus and clearly linked in the center of the first one, the second more blurry, but snapped when Harry had turned around. There's no arguing that it's him. And there will be plenty of other photos soon enough proving that he's holding _Nick's_ hand. There's hundreds of retweets.

_Perfect,_ Laura says via text. _No one can publish it because the paps didn't get any of you inside. It's spreading pretty quickly, though. Go home and lie low and don't give me any details._

Harry saves the pictures to his phone, setting the one with their hands as his lock screen. Nick laughs when he sees what Harry is doing, but Harry just pulls him in and kisses him. His mouth is cold from the juice, but Harry doesn't really care. Mostly he just never wants to let go of Nick again.

~*~

Their cover for _Attitude_ goes up online on a Friday. It's been five days since the first picture of them together, and they've been a trending topic on and off ever since. They'd been to the shops on Thursday to stock up, knowing they were about to be hosting a party, and had been papped carrying bags of bottles and snacks to Harry's car.

Harry's got rehearsals all day, but there's a larger mob of photographers and fans than usual waiting for them when they leave, and it takes ages just to get in the cars because each of the boys insists on giving him a hug in full view of everyone before leaving. Harry invites them all over, even though he doubts anyone will show tonight. They have tomorrow off, but they're filming on Sunday, and they all spend way too much time with each other anyway.

It takes more than an hour to get across London, and Harry spends some time going through Twitter. Laura had warned him not to respond to anything negative, but that's never been Harry's problem. There's too many DMs and mentions to actually see everything, but he picks a nice tweet at random and replies.

_**@xx_Styles_:** @grimmers OMG YOUR SO LUCKY CAN'T BELIEVE YOUR WITH HARRY _

_**@harry_styles:** @xx_Styles_: @grimmers think I'm the lucky one .x_

There are quite a few terrible messages, but nothing really affects him that much as he gets closer and closer to home.

He tweets a general, _thank you for your support,_ message before downloading the copy of the magazine he's been sent, with the finished article.

> _**The Home Life of Britain's Favourite Stars** _
> 
> _At thirty years old, Nick Grimshaw has already lived about three lives. His accomplishments are too many to list, so we've narrowed it down to the top three: he has now been in charge of the Radio One Breakfast Show for two and a half years; he’s an ambassador for the British Fashion Council; and he’s about to release a clothing line for Phillip Green, to be sold at Topman from next month. He is also well-known for having a wide circle of famous friends, such as Pixie Geldof, Alexa Chung, Kate Moss, designer Henry Holland, and Harry Styles._
> 
> _Nick, or Grimmy to his friends, has recently purchased a new three-storey terraced house in Hackney, which is where I've been invited to come chat to him. Nick answers the door half bent over, attempting to keep his adorable English Bull Terrier, Pig, from escaping._
> 
> _"She's run off three times this week," he says. "Luckily she's not got further than the front gate yet."_
> 
> _Nick's smile is warm and welcoming, and I get the chance to introduce myself properly once the front door is securely closed and Pig is not in danger of escaping._
> 
> _"Pardon the mess," he says, leading me down the corridor towards the back of the house. "We're having some work done, so it's a bit cluttered at the moment."_
> 
> _Not that I'd be able to tell the difference, and I tell him so. The house looks spotless, anyway. The walls are crowded with pictures of his friends mixed with an eclectic art collection against a bright blue background, and the furniture is a comfortable mix of contemporary and antique. He looks right at home in the middle of it all, put together perfectly for a late Sunday morning, dressed in dark skinny jeans, boots, and a Beyonce t-shirt._
> 
> _He offers a cup of tea, and leads the way to the kitchen, where I find something I did not expect. Or rather, someone. Harry Styles is standing in the middle of the kitchen in stocking feet, fiddling with the kettle. There's two half-full mugs on the kitchen table._
> 
> _"Tea?" He looks perfectly at home in Nick's kitchen._
> 
> _I'm woefully unprepared to meet Harry Styles, so I say the first thing that comes into my head. "Sorry I was early." I had, in fact, knocked on Nick's door about ten minutes before I'd been due. It feels like I've been caught out, or stumbled into something I'm not supposed to see. "The interview can wait a few minutes whilst you finish your tea." I stop just short of offering my pinky and promising not to tell._
> 
> _They look at each other and smile, and then Nick circles around me to go stand next to Harry and take his hand._
> 
> _"Actually," Nick says. "That's sort of why you're here."_

The rest of the article isn't an exact transcript of what they'd said, but Jennifer has woven their answers into a complete narrative of the last few years, whilst painting a glowing picture of their life now, at least the bits she'd seen in the few hours she'd been over.

It's just starting to get dark when Harry gets home, and their house is completely lit up, every window Harry can see.Their new neighbors are absolutely going to hate them after tonight, because Harry can hear the music and chatter from the street as soon as he steps out of the car.

He finds Nick in the kitchen, pouring drinks, and immediately corners him against the counter to kiss him hello. He hasn't even taken his jacket off yet, but he's burrowing his hands under Nick's shirt and pulling him close; Nick's doing the same. The noise of the house fades, goes fuzzy around the edges like he's already had a few drinks. The article went up hours ago, but Harry's been sequestered in rehearsals all day, and hasn't been able to appreciate any of it.

Now, he's _home_ with his _boyfriend_ and everybody knows it. He grinds his hips against Nick's, debating the merits of dragging him upstairs or into the ground-floor toilet or just undoing Nick's jeans right here in their kitchen.

He's only stopped by someone clearing their throat obnoxiously loudly. Harry breaks the kiss but doesn't pull away from Nick at all. Nick's hands tighten on his arms, like he's trying to keep Harry from leaving, too. When they turn, they find Aimee by the table, phone in hand.

"Do you two ever come up for air?" She's trying to complain about it, but she's got a wide grin on her face, so Harry just flips her off and turns back to Nick, biting at his neck a bit before moving back to his mouth.

"Don't mind me, then," she says, coming over to pick up one of the drinks Nick had been pouring before Harry walked in. "Come out when you're finished."

She says _finished_ like she knows what Harry was thinking before she came in, and, well, that's probably fair, given that she'd lived with Nick a few years back. Harry drags Nick into the tiny ground floor toilet mostly because it's closest, and crowds him up against the door before sinking to his knees and pulling Nick's jeans down, taking Nick's half-hard cock into his mouth.

Harry has no idea how many of their friends are here, or how many of them know that he's back yet — probably all of them, knowing Aimee — or how many of them know what is happening right now. Probably everyone, really. _Everyone_ knows. The entire world doesn't necessarily know about how Harry is sucking Nick to full hardness right this second, but Harry's seen enough of what the fans write about them to know that there's probably a good number who are at least imagining it. His cock throbs in his jeans, and Harry presses the heel of his hand down, groaning around Nick as he does.

"Fuck." Nick tugs Harry's hair loose and grabs a good handful of it, steadying Harry's head and fucking into his mouth.

~*~

They're both a bit worse for wear by the time they make it back to the party, and everyone probably notices, but it doesn't stop Gemma from jumping out of her chair and nearly knocking them both over when she sees them.

"I'm so proud of you," she says, squeezing Harry tightly. It takes forever for her to let go, but once she does Harry ends up being passed around the room, one hug after another until he finally gets back to Nick, who is waiting for him with a drink in hand. Harry takes it gratefully.

"You alright?" Nick asks, eyes soft, hand finding the small of Harry's back. Harry leans into him and sips his drink.

Harry kisses him, soft and gentle, a greeting, mostly. There's probably terrible fallout waiting for them outside the bubble of their house with their friends, but that's Laura's job to manage, not theirs, not anymore.

"Dance with me," Harry says. A few people are dancing already, Henry and Gellz and Daisy, many more are standing around, chatting and drinking. The music is loud, but Harry can still hear Collette over it, telling a story about this week's netball to Emily. No one is even looking at them. The entire world is talking about it, but in here they're old news.

Sometime later, Harry goes to get them fresh drinks and pulls Nick down on the sofa with him, scrolling through Instagram, because he's not been on in hours. He'll answer the more personal messages in the morning — there's too many to get to right now. He finds Aimee's picture about five minutes later. It's them, in the kitchen earlier, pressed tight together, outline dark against the fading light from the window behind them. She's captioned it, _#fbf to five minutes ago when @nicholasgrimshaw promised to get me a drink._

Harry double-taps it to like it before tossing his phone onto the table in front of them and pulling Nick to his feet again. There's a party on. Everything else can wait.

~*~

**Epilogue**

**August, 2015**

"Is this always what tour's like?" Nick asks. "Lying around all day and ordering in expensive room service?"

"Do you really want to talk about that right now?"

It's somewhere around noon, they're in New York for a few days of press during a lull between shows, and Harry is spooned up behind Nick, slowly fucking into him. Harry bites down on Nick's neck and presses him a bit more firmly into the mattress so he can get better leverage. Nick groans and arches his back, giving Harry a better angle.

"S'pose it can wait," Nick says. "Fuck!"

"Already doing that," Harry says, laughing. Nick reaches back to swat at him, but the blow barely lands, and then he's just grabbing onto Harry's hip and urging him to move faster.

Nick lets Harry hold him close for a long time after they're finished, sweat cooling rapidly in the air-conditioned room. Nick gets bored easily, though, and he starts shifting around and reaching for his phone after a while.

"Should we do something other than stay in and fuck, then?" Harry asks. "Alexa's in town, I think. And I haven't seen Drew or Waseem since Christmas."

"We had lunch yesterday," Nick says, "whilst you were off being a popstar."

He's teasing, and the jab has lost all traces of bitterness. Not very long ago that joke had been heavy with the weight of their secret and months-long separations. The touring hasn't really changed, but Nick's along for the first time, now.

"We should go out tonight." Harry reaches for his own phone. "I have tomorrow off. We're not leaving for Chicago until Monday morning. Saturday night in New York."

"Lets," Nick says, tossing his phone aside and rolling over half on top of Harry. "But we've got loads of time until then."

~*~

It's not the first show Nick's been to, not even the first one he's been to as Harry's boyfriend, since Harry had dragged him around Europe whenever possible all summer. Belgium had been incredible: the first time Nick had been to a show outside the country, and the other boys had had to constantly drag Harry away from singing to him off at the side of the stage.

But there's something even better about it this time. Nick is _on tour_ with them. In America, where tour doesn't mean flying back home every other night.

Harry doesn't really need the toilet, but Liam's speech is coming up after this song, so Harry catches Nick's attention from where he's talking to Gemma and jerks his head towards the back of the stage. He nearly misses his part when he sees Nick's eyes widen and a grin slowly spread across his face. Gemma's laughing at them, and Harry would flip her off if there weren't cameras everywhere.

After a second of debate, he does it anyway.

Nick is waiting when Harry gets back behind the screens, and Harry nearly falls over himself to get to him. They kiss hard and fast, pumped up on the adrenaline of the show and the knowledge that at least some of the girls in the audience can guess what's happening. Especially the ones by the side where Nick had been standing with Gemma and Lou and various other crewmembers. He grinds hard, and can feel the heavy weight of Nick's half-hard dick against his own. In his ears, Harry can hear Liam and Niall and Zayn still chatting away on stage.

Someone grabs Harry's ear and pulls, and he yelps, turning to find Louis, mic in one hand, Harry's ear pinched in the other.

"Loo's free if you need it," he says. Harry turns to grin at Nick. " _Not_ for that."

Harry goes as quickly as he can whilst Liam and Niall stall for time.

Nick is already back when Harry gets to the stage again, and they're all settling down to sing _Little Things_. He's sitting halfway down the catwalk, but he can still see Nick talking to Gemma, not paying attention to the show until Harry starts singing.

There are some songs that they're all a bit tired of performing, some songs that were a good fit when they were teenagers that sit poorly at the edges now. Little Things is one of them, but they'd all agreed that the show needed a bit of a slowdown in the middle, a chance for them to catch their breath, so it's still on the setlist.

It's probably just him, but Harry can feel new life blooming in the words as he sings them to Nick, openly, in front of an audience of — eventually, when the footage gets posted online — millions. Nick is still and quiet, one arm around Gemma's shoulders. He's a bit too far away for Harry to see clearly, but he thinks he knows what Nick's face is doing right now. He certainly knows what his own looks like.

There's always hundreds of cameras pointed on them during shows, but Harry can only hope that someone has thought to turn one onto Nick, too.

**Author's Note:**

> [This](http://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-49215077.html) is Nick and Harry's new house. Bedroom 4 is the one being turned into a bathroom.
> 
> If you haven't seen them, the interviews mentioned in the beginning, they are: 
> 
> 1\. [One Direction with Dan Wootton from The Sun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oCb1Lj1qUmc)  
> 2\. [Harry and Liam with ODE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dSavUIRoIyI)
> 
> Harry really did [tweet](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/550364634549850112) at five minutes to Maldives time at New Year's.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://glitterbootsandyellowshorts.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/hllangel)


End file.
